


These Eyes Are Blind

by Helena_Hathaway, mcr_rockstar



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst and Humor, Attempt at Humor, Blind Character, Blind!Frank, Blindness, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Frerard, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-02-20 05:24:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 145,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2416469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helena_Hathaway/pseuds/Helena_Hathaway, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcr_rockstar/pseuds/mcr_rockstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say love is blind, but Frank's taking that to a more literal sense. So many people try to distance themselves from being called normal, but that's really all Frank wants. He's sick of being different. He's also sick of being alone, but he's made himself comfortable with it. To be blind is to be alone. Or at least he'd had every intention to be alone until he met Gerard. All Frank wants is to be normal, but it's Gerard who wants to make him see that he's far from it. Frank can't see with his eyes, but with his heart he sees Gerard, and he sees the beauty there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A New House, A New Start... Hopefully

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank is rather snarky.

Frank’s got a different opinion of the world, as do most people. He’s got a different way of thinking about things. A different way of hearing things. A different way of seeing things. 

He’s got a different vantage point to think about things though, and this is not always a good thing, and for most people it’s a highly inconvenient thing. No one really understands, and they’re all a bit patronizing.

“Do you need help with the door?” 

“Can you find your way by yourself?”

“Do you want help with that?”

And all the other phrases most people hear when they arrive at new places, but then there’s Frank who hears those very things several dozen times a day. He’s not a child, even though you may treat him that way. He’s been doing this for a while, he doesn’t need your help, so go away or he will hit you with a cane. He can and he will.

There are a lot of simple tasks he can’t do, but he will try his best on his own thank you very much.

Frank sees a lot of things differently. Especially because he can’t see anything.

He does not like the term blind, and is more in favor of the term ‘visually fucked,’ because it’s so much more fun to say.

For all his life, Frank has been the wildcard. He’s the wildcard who’s also a bit of an asshole. It gets tedious being the sympathy case every second of your life, so he’s just grown into this arrogant bravado, which really doesn’t suit your average blind kid. Therein lies the loophole though, because Frank is not your average blind kid.

He’s constantly being an annoying little sot who pretends they’re going to walk into traffic. He also tends to freak people out when handling sharp objects. He’s in control of the situation whenever he’s showing off like this, but people think he’s that helpless. Frank isn’t an idiot. He knows where the cars are, and he knows not to chop his own fingers off with a knife. He’s not an idiot, he just can’t see. There’s a difference.

Frank likes to freak people out though. He likes to hear them gasp long and hard as the midget kid almost gets hit by a truck. The truck won’t hit him. If anything, Frank has a better sense of where the truck is than most people. He hears it, and hearing it helps him place it.

Hearing is definitely the most underrated of all the senses. Everyone talks to him about how sad it is that he can’t see, but not to hear would be not to live. There’s really nothing more immersive than an earful of music when you can’t see the world around you. Frank’s a pessimist, he has to be, given that he’s been blind for ten years, but one thing he’s sure of is that music is magic. Nothing good comes of anything you see, but music, sounds, voices, that’s what Frank values most when he can’t value the aesthetic.

Frank will go out to clubs sometimes just to hear the music, and it makes him feel even more alive than he already does. He listens to the way the beat changes and drops. The way it weaves from one speaker to the other, the way the singer forces their voice out against the music. He loves it all and truly he would love to be the one up there making hearts swoon. 

He used to play guitar before he became blind, and he was pretty good for how old he was, and just in general. He still plays but not as much. Playing guitar is almost like being blind. You close your eyes and just let your fingers find their way around the instrument. That's what Frank always did, and that's why he's not half bad. He doesn't think he should do it anywhere other than his house though, the world doesn’t want or care about hearing him. No matter how hard he tries, he’s never going to be as good as a guy who can see what he’s doing.

Frank doesn't have any friends. Not many people tend to want to put up with the asshole blind kid. He likes it that way though. He’s gotten into the habit of accepting that his friends will find him, and not the other way around. It's just that simple. It'll flow the same way it does with his instrument. A few kinks here and there, but not too shabby. 

Frank doesn't have a significant other either, for the same reason he doesn’t have friends. He’s always wondered how it'd be if he found that one person who could remain by his side no matter what. Frank never goes in search of that person though. He doesn't need anyone by his side. His hand works perfectly fine. He is content with being alone for the rest of his life, it’s a reality he accepted a long time ago, but that doesn't mean he doesn't _think_ about being with someone else. 

The thing with that though is that Frank knows he'd want to see them. He knows he'd want to know how they look, and he’d never stop longing for it. Sure he could trace their face with his fingers, and try to feel them, out but he knows that won't be enough at the end of the day. Frank’s been told he’s a good looking guy, and he’d sure as hell like to see the progress he’s made since he saw himself last, but that doesn’t mean as much to him as what other people look like. His face isn’t the most interesting thing to him, he would just want to know what the person he's with would look like, so that he could compliment them. Tell them they’re having a great hair day, or congratulate them for having no acne. He can’t do that though.

No one wants to date the cripple. Frank doesn’t think of it as a handicap. He used to, but now he just thinks of it as who he is. He thinks it’s inconvenient, but he’s no less human than someone with 20/20 vision. He can’t solve a Rubik’s cube, but that isn’t a good judge of one’s worth in the first place.

Frank’s face is pushed against the window of the car seat, trying to picture what a person looks like, but it’s not very easy. It’s hard to picture ever being in a relationship when he can’t even picture what they might look like. He knows what a face looks like and a body, because he has both of those things, but it’s hard to remember details about a face. Mainly what eyes look like, and what color a mouth is, or anything else to do with color for that matter. There are some colors he’s lost entirely. Black is something he’s fairly familiar with. White is pretty easy too. He can see the most minimal of some colors. Nothing pale though, those are lost to him. Pastels are essentially nonexistent. It’s been a while, so he’s forgotten a lot of things about sight. If there’s one thing he wishes he could’ve held on to, it’s colors.

Frank’s sight isn’t what one would call complete darkness. He’s still blind, but he can see the changes in light. Sometimes he can see a person’s form if he’s in a really bright room, because it casts a silhouette in the light that passes through to his eyes. Mostly it’s just big blurry blobs, and the only thing that he’s reliably able to see is when the sun is up, because that makes his vision a bright white, while darkness makes his vision a dark black. It’s not very useful, but it shows hope. His brain still does receive signals from his eyes, which is the best news he has for the future.

Frank’s not the best at being hopeful, and he tells himself to push the hope away most of the time, but still, part of him thinks maybe, just maybe, he’ll see again. He’d love that. To see again would be nice. That’s wishful thinking though, and he tries not to do that.

The window against his cheek is cold, and he’s mostly only pressed against it for the way it feels. He’s not sure what time it is, because he doesn’t particularly care. He’s been trying to not fall asleep in the car for several hours. His mom doesn’t like the music Frank’s into, so they’ve been listening to a wide array of audiobooks, none of which Frank picked out. He’s getting really tired of old winded British men talking about boring upper-class white men with no character appeal whatsoever.

“Are we there yet?” Frank asks.

“That would be the thirtieth time you’ve asked that,” his mom says.

“Are we there yet? That makes thirty one.”

“No we are not there yet,” she replies.

“Bummer. I can’t wait to see the new house,” he says monotonously. 

“That wasn’t funny,” she says.

“You need to learn to take a joke,” Frank snorts.

“You really need to work on your manners,” his mother says, and Frank would roll his eyes, but he’s not very good at it. He’s got a bit of control over his pupils, but not much.

“So-”

“If you ask me whether we’re there yet one more time, I will turn this car around,” she says.

“Are we there yet?” Frank asks. As promised, the car swerves around considerably, throwing Frank against the window even more. He’s not bothered by it, but he starts giggling at the momentum of the car.

Frank scoffs when he realizes what’s happened and says, “Oh nice. Try to trick the blind kid, isn’t that polite of you? I can’t see, I’ll give you that, but I know the difference between a 180 and a 360 degree turn.”

“I told you I’d turn the car around. I never said how _much_ I’d turn the car around.”

“Truth by ambiguity. Nice. I like it. Keep up the good work,” Frank says giving a thumbs up, and then letting his head fall back against the window. He’s really getting bored of this.

“When will we be there then?” Frank asks, probably about ten minutes later, though it feels like it’s been hours.

“Not too long now.”

Frank huffs and slouches down in his seat a little further. Driving is tedious, and he doesn’t get to waste his time looking out the window, because he wouldn’t really see all that much.

Frank sighs for what has to be the thousandth time on the car ride, and slouches a little in his seat. He knows he's bugged his mom enough but he can't help but to ask her again. 

"Mom, are we there yet?"

She sighs angrily and he knows that that’s his cue to be quiet, but it wouldn't be Frank if he actually took heed to it. 

"I'm just really tired of being bored. What you've picked to play isn't necessarily a day at Disneyland, and I can't enjoy the scenery on the way, so I'd much rather it be over."

"You are a piece of work, you know that?"

"Don't tell me I'm driving my own mom away now."

Frank's mother detects the underlying sadness in that statement. She sighs again, but sadly this time. 

"Frankie, no matter how many smart remarks come out of your mouth or how many times you try to drive me crazy, I'm not going anywhere. I am your mother and I always will be."

Frank nods and she smiles at him unbeknownst to him. 

"Guess what Frankie..."

"We're here?"

Frank's mother laughed and turned into the driveway. 

"Yes son, we're here."

“Hallelujah,” Frank says, and he puts his hand on the door handle, “can I open the door?”

He has to ask whether he can, because he once knocked over a mailbox when he didn’t know it was there. He also dented the door when he swung it out too far and it hit a wall.

“The driveway is clear,” she replies, “there’s some grass about a foot from where you are. Careful, there’s a little bit of an angle.”

Frank nods, and pushes the door open carefully. He scrambles around the glove compartment for where he left his cane. It collapses to be about a fourth of its size, and Frank finds it. Before stepping out of the car he puts it together to its full length. He pulls himself out of the car, careful not to hit his head on the roof. A moment later he plants his feet firmly when he’s sure he knows what the slope of the ground is like.

“Left or right?” Frank asks, because he doesn’t know which way the house is supposed to be.

“On your left,” his mom calls back.

Frank turns his head in that direction, and steps away from the door so that he can close it. The driveway feels like it hasn’t been repaved recently, because Frank’s fairly sure there’s some cracks in the tarmac.

“Frankie, do you need me to walk you around the house?”

“I’ll do it myself,” Frank says.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. There’s no stairs right?” Frank asks for what has to be the millionth time. Frank hates stairs. With a burning passion he hates stairs. All stairs are different heights, and there’s always a different number of steps. One extra step can make his life really difficult. A centimeter height difference can trip him up as well. Stairs were designed by Satan himself, Frank’s sure of it.

“There’s no stairs, as I’ve said a thousand times,” his mother replies. Frank breathes out lightly, because he still isn’t quite sure. There could still be some stairs in that house that weren’t listed on the real-estate information. Stairs are one of the biggest reasons for why they moved house in the first place. That, and apparently raising a blind kid in a busy city was ‘too dangerous’ and Frank’s already ‘nearly walking into traffic every other day.’ He didn’t really complain, he had no attachment to the old house, or the old school, or the old town. He was actually quite glad to rid himself of the people in that town.

“If there are stairs I’ll just be lying on the floor when you come in,” Frank says. He can tell that his mom is trying to get some of the boxes and what not out of the car. One of the pluses to not having a lot of money is that they also don’t have a lot of stuff. Most of it they shipped a few weeks ago and is waiting in the entryway. That’ll be a fun obstacle.

“I don’t have a key,” Frank says, when he reaches what he believes to be the top of the driveway. It is angled upward a little bit, but it’s not very steep. Steep enough that a ball would roll down it, but not very fast. 

“Oh sorry,” she says, and a second later he feels a small piece of cool metal in his hand.

“Thanks,” Frank says, and then makes his way back up the driveway.

“There’s a bend in the way there to your right, Frank. Then the door is right in front of you,” his mother says.

“Got it,” Frank says, and he lets his cane clear the path in front of him. He feels when the cane hits grass instead of sidewalk, and turns at this. As he was directed, the door is right there.

“Hey mom, I hope you know that I know you’re right behind me,” Frank says, “and I don’t appreciate the fact that you think I’m not smart enough to realize you’re there.”

“Sorry sorry. Just worried,” she says.

“Well I’m fine, as long as there really aren’t any stairs.”

“I’ve told you a million times!”

“Then we shouldn’t have any problems,” Frank replies. He feels over the ridges of the key in his hand, and finds the right way to hold it. He then reaches out for the door handle, and feels the cold metal in his hand a second later. It takes him a few shots to get it right, but he does finally turn the knob, and leaves the key in the lock.

Frank steps into the house and feels out in front of him for something that might trip him. There’s hardwood flooring which is not Frank’s personal preference, but he continues on. He likes carpet best, because it’s softer and he’s less likely to slip on it. The first few feet in front of him seem to be safe so he walks further into the room until he hits a wall. He walks along the length of the wall until he senses that the floor changes to something more like tile. Frank guesses that this is the kitchen, and walks in a little further. The sound his cane makes when it hits what is probably the oven tells him that he was right about what room this was.

“Frank?” his mother asks, and Frank answers back.

“Your room should be through the kitchen, second door on your right. The first door is a bathroom. There’s only one door on the left side of that hall, and it’s a spare room,” she says.

“They’re all in one hall?” Frank asks, and she makes an affirmative sound, “Where’s your room?”

“Mine is off of the living room. The living room is where you entered from next to the front door.”

“I figured,” Frank says and he steps forward carefully to find the room that’s apparently his.

“Now if you want, I can take the spare room and use the master as the extra, if you want me to be closer,” she says.

“No!” Frank responds firmly. She probably thinks he still wants someone there to help him walk down the hall or something, when he really doesn’t. He wants to be treated like he’s actually an eighteen year old boy and not an idiot with a stick.

Frank finds the room, and once inside he locates where the closet is, and finds a window on the wall. There’s a bed pressed against a corner of the wall, because the house is partially furnished. As far as he can tell, the bed is the only thing in this room. The closet is small, but he doesn’t have a lot of clothes. Mostly they’re just neutral colors so that he doesn’t mismatch things often.

He hears his mom step into the room behind him, and he turns in the direction that he’s fairly sure she’s in.

“What do you think?” she asks. He hears her turn on a light switch in the room, but Frank hadn’t realized it was dark in the first place. The difference in lighting isn’t prominent enough to have made it past his eyes.

“I don’t like the paint color,” Frank says.

His mother sighs long and hard. He had to do it though. If he hadn’t made a sarcastic remark then he is not Frank, but actually some sort of shape shifter and he should be exterminated on the spot.

“Really though?”

“It’s small,” he says, “but hey, no steps!”

“I’m glad you’re so easily pleased,” she says.

“That’s as close as you’re going to get to a compliment about the house,” Frank says, and he walks over to where he’d felt the bed was a minute ago. He tests out how tall it is so that he can remember that for future reference. 

“Well make yourself at home, because this is it,” she says.

“Dandy,” Frank responds, and he hears her leave the room.

Frank thinks to himself that he would love to know what color the walls actually are. He was too busy being cynical to actually ask. He should’ve asked. He doesn’t want to show that he’s curious though.

Frank sits down on the bed and looks around, well not actually look, but you get the point. He sighs and closes up his cane. He isn't planning on leaving his room anytime soon. He listens to his mom dropping boxes in the distance and smiles sadly. He wishes he could help her and not have it turn into a disaster. 

Frank wishes he could see again. He wishes that he could put things up and sit back and look at it satisfied, but he can't. Frank had hopes of seeing again, and maybe he still does somewhere in the back of his mind, but he isn't banking on it. He wonders what it would be like seeing again for the first time though. 

Frank always thought about having a boyfriend and magically seeing again. It's no secret that Frank likes boys more than girls so it's not actually a shock that he thinks of having a boyfriend. He knows no one could ever love him though. He can't see, so what's the point in being with him. He wouldn't be able to cook much, clean, or do anything that he needs his eyes for. 

Frank always imagined how arguments would work too. Like if his boyfriend would get upset and say the wrong things to him. Something along the lines of 'but you're too stupid to see that,' and then they would realize too late what they said. Frank wouldn't be up to that. Frank supposes he really is okay with being alone for the rest of his life. It’ll hurt less in the long run.

Frank takes off his vans and moves his body onto the bed comfortably. He takes off his sunglasses and sits them beside him on the bed. He looks around trying to grasp the color of the room, and sighs when he barely comes up with anything. It could be a combination of colors, or ugly wallpaper for that matter. Maybe an assortment of pastels that look white with his poor sense of color. He gives up and closes his eyes, because it’ll only just upset him. Before Frank knows it, he’s slipped into dreamland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter is always a great place to say if you're interested in the story.


	2. Freedom is Nothing More Than A Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank's still pretty snarky.

Frank wakes up to some time of day between the hours of midnight and 11:59 pm. He neither knows nor cares what time it actually is.

He reaches around his bed, which he realizes only now doesn’t have any bedding. There’s a blanket over him and a pillow under him, so his mom must have checked up on him sometime after he fell asleep. Frank pulls them away and swings his feet over the side of the bed. It’s a little higher than he’d wish for it to be, because there’s about an inch of space where his feet just dangle. Frank places his feet on the ground and then pats the spaces around him for his cane. 

He has a long moment of fear where he thinks that it’s gone. Frank feels around everywhere, scrambling in this big black expanse for the only thing in the world that helps him walk, but he doesn’t find it. He finally feels his hands wrap around it on the floor, and his heart stops beating so fast. It’s kind of belittling that Frank’s whole life is controlled by a long piece of aluminum. He doesn’t like to let on how terrified he is of losing it.

Frank picks the cane up and then pulls himself off of the bed. He tries to get some signal as to whether or not the sun is up, but he doesn’t see any light. Maybe the window’s got curtains or something, or maybe it’s dark out.

Frank walks across the room, hoping that he’ll be able to find his way without stubbing his toe. If toes are magnets to being stubbed, then the polarity of Frank’s toes is higher than other people’s. He actually had a pair of steal toed boots at one point for that exact reason, but they were tedious to wear. Vans are easy. No laces.

Frank hits the door, and then reaches out for the door knob. It takes him a moment to get the door open, because he had thought the door was going to open outward, but it goes the other way. Once the door is open though he makes his way out into the hall, and hears his mother rustling about in the kitchen.

“Mom?” he calls.

“Yes?”

“What time is it?” he asks, because he doesn’t know whether he should go back to bed or not.

“About nine,” she replies. “You slept through the day.”

“Okay. Didn’t mean to, just tired,” Frank sighs, and figures that he probably should just stay awake for now.

“Are you hungry?” she asks, when Frank enters the kitchen.

“Starving,” Frank says, when he feels the emptiness inside his stomach. He frowns and tries to look around the room, but he doesn’t see anything. 

“I hope you’re okay with cereal because we don’t have much of anything else,” she tells him. “Unless you want a bottle of mustard.”

“Mm, mustard. As good as that sounds, I think I’ll take the cereal,” Frank says.

“I thought so,” she says and then there’s the sound of a cabinet opening. He hears his mother grabbing a box, and he hears the rustling of the contents, followed by the distinct sound of cereal falling into a bowl.

“I haven’t been to the grocery store yet, so unfortunately, no milk.”

“I’ll take it dry. Just like my sense of humor,” Frank says.

“Yep. So there’s no real dining room in this place, but there’s a table behind you which we’re going to have to make do with for now. I don’t like the style of the chairs so I might pick up some new ones sometime soon.”

Frank turns around and looks vacantly anywhere to pretend he’s looking at the table, “Don’t say that. What a stunning piece of seating. I think these chairs are absolutely gorgeous.”

She makes a huffing sound behind him, and Frank feels his mother walk around him and place the bowl on the table. He makes his way over to it, and feels over the seat to make sure he’ll sit down correctly without falling onto the floor.

“Contain your laughter please,” Frank says, when all he gets is an annoyed silence.

“You could at least try to sound happy at the new house,” his mother says.

“How? What the hell is there for me to say about this place? Everything people compliment about houses is about appearance. ‘Lovely drapes’ or ‘truly remarkable tiling’ or ‘I love the brickwork.’ You think it’s easy to find something nice to say?” Frank asks, “I don’t know what any of this fucking stuff looks like. I don’t know how big the street is, or how many houses there are here, or what the house is even made of! Straw? Wood? Bricks? Do we live in a house that will be victimized by the big bad wolf or not?”

“Watch your language,” is all his mom has to say in response.

The kitchen is silent for a long time while Frank tries and fails not to spill frosted flakes on the table and floor. It’s hard for him to judge how best to eat the damn cereal when he can’t tell if he’s about to let it fall out of the bowl.

“I’ve already put in a request for the right signage to be put up for your safety,” his mother says to break the silence. Frank thinks it’s kind of cool that they put up signs just for blind kids, and if he could see it he’d probably be really excited to see the ‘Blind Child Area’ sign put there specifically for him. Everyone likes to feel like they’re special. Frank gets signs. He also gets people to create paths for him when he’s walking in a crowd, because they’re afraid or disgusted by him. Being bitter is his second nature. In all honesty, the signs are just depressing to him. All it does for him is make everyone driving down the street know he’s there, and that’s rather unsettling.

“Cool,” Frank answers after his long silence. 

"Cool? That's it? No smart remarks?"

"It's not really as fun when you _want_ a remark."

Frank tries again at his bowl and almost tips it over. His mother guides his hand and he yanks it away. 

"I was just trying to-"

"I don't need your help okay? Let me feel normal while eating at least!" Frank yells.

Frank's mother flinches at her son's raised voice, and then sighs. Frank didn't mean to snap at her, but it’s that kind of behavior from people that Frank doesn't want. He doesn't want to feel like the hopeless blind boy who can't even _eat_ correctly. He successfully picks up the dry flakes in the bowl and shoves them in his mouth. He crunches on them as lightly as possible. 

"I hate cereal. I can hear every single crunch and it's annoying," Frank states.

"I thought you liked annoying."

"Ha ha. Not very funny."

Frank's mother chuckles lightly and then stands up, "Do you need anything else?"

"Some water would suffice, unless you want me to die of dehydration."

"A yes or no would work, and then the rest of your answer."

Frank grunts before shoving more cereal into his mouth. His ears perk up at the sound of his mother rustling in a box. The water is then turned on and he hears the shift in the sound as the water begins filling a cup. Frank isn't really allowed glass things which annoys him even more. He's blind not a fucking slime that things just slip from. He can hold a damn glass or plate. 

The water is turned off and in seconds his mom is back at his side. He reaches out for the cup and she places it in his hand. He hadn't been too far off with the estimate of where she was holding her hand out. He mentally gives himself a tally mark. He drinks the water down quickly, and then sits the cup down on the table without missing; another tally mark for Frank the fucking blind kid. His mother pats him on the head patronizingly. 

"I guess you were closer to dehydration than I thought."

"Yeah, I was pretty parched. Sleeping through the day does that to a person."

"Yeah, well, yesterday was a long day. I'm gonna go get a few more things situated before calling it a night. If you need anything just call me."

"I need my sight back," Frank says plainly.

"Frank," His mother gives him a warning glare that he obviously can't see. He can, however, detect it in her voice and feel her eyes on him. 

"Okay, sorry."

His mother nods and then leans forward to kiss his forehead, "I love you."

"I have a deep regard for you too mom."

Frank's mother smiles at her boy. Frank listens as she departs the kitchen. He gives himself a few more handfuls of the cereal before getting bored with it and giving up. He stands up and grabs his cane. He puts it out in front of him and moves it around to find his way out of the kitchen. Frank walks into the living room where he hears his mom bustling about and he hits the wall with his cane. 

Frank clears his throat and says, "If you don't mind, could you get me some pajamas to put on? And also, I want to take a shower."

"I don't think you should take a shower until they put the bar up in there. They'll be here first thing in the morning. Maybe you could settle for a bath?"

"I settled for being blind and needing a bar. I don't think I'd like to settle on something I _can_ control."

"You're taking a bath,” she says firmly.

"Baths are dirty, ma! All you do is soak in your own dirt. I thought the idea of washing was to get clean not marinate in funk some more."

"I gave you a command and that's the one you will follow. Either take the bath or wait until the morning to get clean."

"I can hold onto the wall," Frank propositions.

"You can also slip and break something which will make your life even harder than it is now. Now march your butt into that bathroom, and take a bath or go back to your room." 

"I could slip getting into the bath or getting out," Frank reasons.

"You are taking a damn bath, Frank!"

Frank jumps back a bit and bumps into the wall. He feels his mother's gaze on him, and he looks back in the direction her voice was coming from. 

"Stay here. I'll go get it ready for you," with that, she rushes past him so fast that Frank can feel the wind breeze by him. 

He knows he was being insolent, but he didn't expect her to blow up like that; it’s just something they do every now and again. He decides that she must be stressed from the move, and handling everything on her own. Frank decides he'll keep his mouth shut for the rest of the night and maybe even tomorrow. He sighs and looks around the room trying to spot anything with a color that he can see so he can waste his time staring at it. 

Soon he hears the water running somewhere off in the distance and lets his head hang low. He stands there trying to imagine what running water looks like. It has been so long since he last had the privilege of seeing it. He wishes he hadn't taken it for granted. People live their lives taking everything for granted, and Frank just wants to cherish those things.

If someone had told Frank that he would be blind he would've taken the time to value everything. He would've even learnt how to find the beauty in the trash littering the sidewalks. He would've taken his time to study granite or linoleum. He would've even paid more attention to the way the water swirled when being flushed in the commode. Frank just wishes he knew beforehand what he would be missing out on. 

He hears his mom come back into the living room, and she starts rummaging through the boxes again. He figures she’s trying to find him some pajamas. He keeps quiet and waits for her directions. Soon after, he feels her shift until she’s standing right in front of him. His mother links her arm with his and leads him slowly to the bathroom. 

Frank doesn't put up a fight or say anything. He just lets her do what she wants. He doesn't even protest when she starts shedding his clothes for him. He hates when she undresses him to take a bath or shower whenever she thinks he needs her help. He remains obedient though. 

Most teenagers get freedom at the very least by the time that they are legally an adult, but Frank doesn’t get that privilege. He’s never going to be allowed to live by himself in his life. That’s never going to be something he can do. Even Frank has to admit that, even though he wants freedom, he really can’t actually live on his own. He can’t do the dishes, make food, do laundry, file taxes, pay bills, buy groceries, drive a car, and a long list of other things. He’s never going to be truly independent, and realizing that is the scariest thing in the entire world to him.

His mother helps him climb into the lukewarm water, and lets him sink down slowly. She takes his cane from him and sits it by the tub. The bathroom has more echoes than most other rooms so it’s easier for him to sense where things are. She stands up and looks down at him, sighing quietly. She hadn't meant to blow up at him, but he was being more difficult than he needed to be. 

"Call for me when you're done. Don't try and get out on your own. The soap is in the dish to your left, and your wash cloth is right here."

She places the cloth in his hand and squeezes his hand softly. With that she turns off the running water and exits the bathroom. Frank begins washing himself up immediately. He’d meant it when he said baths were dirty. He doesn't want to float around in his muck for longer than needed. 

He mentally congratulates himself on not dropping anything, and reaches out for his cane. He locates it and swings it around until it hits what he thinks to be the sink cabinet. He hits it a few more times until he hears his mother's footsteps. 

"Why are you doing that, you could've bent it out of shape?"

Frank starts standing up and she rushes over to grab him. She helps him step out of the bath and then gives him a towel. He wraps it around himself and takes his cane from her. They walk to Frank's room, and she gives him his pajamas. He takes them and sits them on his bed. Frank still hasn’t said anything to her since she’d shouted at him.

"I didn't mean to yell at you. I'm just tired."

Frank doesn't say anything in response. His mother sighs and takes hold of his hand. 

"I love you Frankie. Don't you ever forget that."

With that she turns and leaves his room, closing the door behind her.

Frank thinks to himself that it’s going to be awfully hard for him to fall asleep, seeing as he just woke up. He hates travel though, and it hasn’t worn off of him from yesterday, so his body is already giving into the grasp of sleep. Being in the car all day had made him completely drained, and it hasn’t been satiated as of yet.

Nevertheless Frank falls asleep pretty quickly, but it’s not an easy sleep. For the first few months after Frank lost his sight he still saw nightly images when he dreamed, and sometimes he still does, but it’s very rarely. Though there are still days when he sees a face in his sleep, but by the time he wakes up, the face is gone. Mostly he just dreams in sounds or smells.

Tonight though it’s uneasy, because his mind has probably gotten too much sleep in the past several hours, but at the same time he’s still drowsy. Frank isn’t a restless sleeper, but its nights like these, after his mom and him had a spat, where he just doesn’t get any relief from sleep.

Eventually, sometime in the middle of the night, Frank gives up, and pulls himself into a sitting position. He leans himself against the wall and for a long moment he sits and stares out into his eternal darkness, wishing he could see someone. He would be up to seeing Slender Man if it meant he could _see_ him.

Instead Frank just stares into the dark room, and then he picks himself up and drops down to his knees on the ground. Frank feels around the floor for his discarded jeans. He finds them at last and pulls out his Walkman. The plus to overly baggy jeans is that there’s more pocket space.

Frank crawls back into his bed and tries to let the music either carry him into sleep, or get him through the next few hours of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts so far?


	3. If Only You Could See Me, We'd Dance Like A Heart Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank meets a guy who's enthusiastic about comic books.

Frank is about as tired as he can be the next day, but he doesn’t want to spend another day lying in. He convinces his mother to take him into town, because he’s been stifling indoors for too long. It’s not a very big town though, even Frank can see that. Figuratively.

There’s really not much to do, but he escapes on a whim by saying that all he wants to do is sit around for a little while. Finally, Frank convinces his mother to take him to the mall in town, which is a sorry little building that should be ashamed to call itself a mall. It’s got a food court though, and Frank likes to people listen. He can’t people watch so he calls it people listening. That’s just his annoying way of saying that he likes to eavesdrop.

Frank ditches his mother when he assures that he’s not going to wonder off into trouble. She has errands to run to make the house homier anyway. Frank would tell her not to bother on getting anything nice, because who’s going to see it, but he decides against it. He’s been pushing the boundaries too much as it is.

Apparently the first snowfall of the year had been the night prior, so Frank is forced to wear non-skid boots even though he’s not even going to be outside. His mom worries too much though, because apparently Frank is the kind of person who slips a lot. He doesn’t really, but if it happens once then his mother decides it will happen again. 

At last though, Frank is sitting in the corner of the food court with his sunglasses on, and head down. He doesn’t expect to really go anywhere, but right now he’s wrapped in someone’s story at another table about their awful cheating ex-boyfriend. It’s really very bland, in Frank’s opinion, the lady needs to use more expletives if she hates the guy so much.

“Why are you wearing sunglasses when it’s snowing and overcast?” A voice asks from beside Frank, and he obviously doesn’t turn to look. It takes Frank a moment to decide that whomever just spoke was talking to him.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those jerks who think only douchebags wear sunglasses indoors,” Frank says. He’s used to it by now, people thinking he’s a twat for the accessory.

“Um no, I was just curious, but thanks for the peachy attitude,” the voice answers. It’s a guy’s voice, that’s for sure, and it’s quite pleasant if he’s going to be honest. It’s light and sweet, and there’s definitely an accent in there, but he hasn’t heard enough of the guy’s voice to identify it. Distinctly American, somewhere in the east. He’s gotten incredibly good at classifying accents over the years because he’s just got better ears than most people.

“I’m not an all that peachy person. To tell you the truth, I’m a bit of a prick,” Frank answers.

“Well that’s nice that you can be honest with yourself about it.”

“I am nothing if not truthful. Well I’m a little snarky too, but we only just met so I figured I’d leave that out.”

The person raises his eyebrow, but Frank doesn’t see that gesture obviously. He doesn’t see anything about the guy now standing somewhere to his left. If he could see the boy he would see his jet black hair, pale skin, way too much eye makeup, and dark black clothing.

“What’s your name then?” The guy asks. Frank decides he’s from New Jersey. 

“To be frank we don’t know each other all that well and I’m not sure I should tell you,” he kind of just did say his name with the way he phrased that sentence, but the guy doesn’t know how clever a pun he just made.

“I’m Gerard,” the guys says. Mister pleasant voice now has a name! Isn’t that exciting?

“Hello Gerard, what do you want?” Frank says. The guy, Gerard, probably doesn’t know he’s conversing with a blind guy because of the fact that Frank’s walking stick is collapsible, and once dismantled it’s only about the size of a small baton.

“Who says I want something?”

“Because people don’t just walk up to strangers to chit-chat.”

The guy moves around a little bit and Frank turns his head in the direction that he’s pretty sure the guy is moving, so that Gerard thinks he’s looking at him through the sunglasses.

“You’re kind of cynical.”

“I try my best,” Frank smiles snidely.

“Mind if I sit here?” Gerard asks, and Frank assumes he’s referring to a chair that’s probably in front of him.

“Isn’t there somewhere else you could sit?”

“Can’t you tell that every other seat is taken besides this one?” He hears the legs of a chair screech on the floor, and assumes that Gerard has now sat down.

“I guess I just didn’t notice. Maybe I wasn’t _looking_ hard enough,” Frank responds. He’s pretty sure this guy has no idea that Frank is blind, and to be honest that’s really refreshing. No one ever treats him like he’s just a guy. Just Frank.

“Still not going to tell me your name? I’d say we know each other pretty well by now.”

“Fine, Gerard,” he says stringing the name out like it’s an insult, “I’m Frank.”

“Frank. You don’t look like a Frank,” he answers.

“I wouldn’t know,” Frank frowns, “is that why you started talking to me then? To sit down?”

“Uh sort of,” Gerard answers, “I’m not keen on big noisy crowds.”

“You prefer bratty little dickheads wearing sunglasses?” Frank asks, and he leans in closer to the table, and aims his head in the direction he’s pretty sure Gerard is. 

“Well you don’t seem that bad. Maybe a bit rude, but who isn’t?”

“Whatever. So, Gerard, what brings you to the mall food court at this time of day?”

The guy doesn’t say anything. Maybe he shrugged, but Frank waits for a verbal answer.

“Why are _you_ here?” He finally says.

“I like eavesdropping on other people’s conversations,” Frank answers truthfully.

“Isn’t that a little creepy?”

“Well _I’m_ a little creepy, so I guess it suits me. You don’t look like a Gerard,” Frank says smiling to himself. He’s really enjoying this interaction, because he just isn’t used to people not pitying him.

“Oh, don’t I?” Gerard answers and he smiles a little, but wipes it away quickly not wanting this Frank guy to see it. If he only knew how idiotic a thought that was.

“Yeah you look more like a big blurry speck to me,” Frank says. That can easily sound like it’s just a weird diss.

“Wow, that’s a high compliment,” Gerard answers.

“Well if it helps any, appearances mean literally nothing to me. Literally nothing at all whatsoever.”

“That’s big of you.”

“No it really isn’t,” Frank sneers, “you never answered my question as to why you’re here.”

“I work at the comic book store here, and I’m on my break,” Gerard answers.

“Ugh, comics,” Frank groans. He hates comic books because they mean nothing to him. Most of the appeal to a comic are the graphics, and there really aren’t that many words on the pages so Frank’s never understood the point. Blind people get no satisfaction at all from graphic novels, really.

“Whoa, hitting me where it hurts,” Gerard answers, “what’s wrong with comic books?”

“Mostly the pictures.”

“Wow that one really hurt. Art is like my favorite thing ever.”

“Art is like my least favorite thing ever. I like music as an art form though, I guess.”

“Why do you hate art?” Gerard asks.

Frank practically snorts. This shouldn’t be as funny as it is, and Gerard doesn’t understand what’s funny of course.

Gerard decides Frank isn’t going to answer so he says, “Fine what’s so great about music then? I mean I love music, it’s one of my favorite things, but what makes it better than art?”

“The format mostly. You don’t need to think about it or process it, because all there is to it is sound. Good sounds, rather than other annoying sounds. Everything is in that one sense. Just sound.”

“You’re wrong about that though. Music isn’t just sound it’s a feeling. It’s an emotion.”

“What makes you the expert on senses?” Frank asks. He’s really tempted to just pull his sunglasses off to let Gerard in on the little secret. His eyes are incredibly pale and milky, so he’s been told, which makes it very clear that he’s definitely blind. He remembers his being brown, but he can’t actually remember what brown looked like anymore. He doesn’t remember many colors really.

Frank remembers red, and he obviously knows the color black and white because that’s all he ever really gets in his state. He remembers what people look like kind of.

“Well, um, my break is almost over, Frank.”

“Nice talking to you,” Frank says waving his hand lazily.

“Maybe you should come with me so that I can show you the amazing world of comic books?”

“I think you’d find that that really isn’t all that smart an idea.”

“Oh come on, you can’t be that stubborn,” Gerard teases, standing up to look down at Frank whose head hasn’t moved from the spot where Gerard was sitting a moment ago.

“I’m more than one hundred percent certain that I wouldn’t appreciate them the way you would,” Frank says.

“You’re right, you are a bit of a prick.”

“I told you,” Frank says matter-of-factly.

“Oh c’mon, just let me take you and then you can leave if you decide you still don’t like it.”

“You’re probably going to regret that statement. Are you sure you want me to come with you?” Frank asks.

“Yeah, I’ve got five minutes left, I can show you a few of my favorites.”

Frank sighs, but he’d already known Gerard’s ignorance couldn’t last forever.

“You really want me too?” Frank asks, sounding irritated.

“Sure, of course,” Gerard answers.

Frank exhales deeply then shrugs. It’s now or never, Gerard’s going to feel kind of shitty after he goes for the ‘big reveal,’ but Frank doesn’t care.

“Well okay then,” Frank answers, and he turns slightly in his seat to face the direction Gerard’s standing in, and he grabs the folded cane from his lap, and starts to put it together with little snaps.

Frank doesn’t see the motion of course, but Gerard jumps a little bit when he sees Frank bring out his cane, and he feels a bit stupid.

“Oh, you’re...”

“What? Blind?” Frank asks, looking somewhere high above him that he’s sure is nowhere near the position of Gerard’s head, “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Well that was a little bitchy, not saying that when we were talking about art.”

“A little bitchy? Wow you’re nice,” Frank says standing up. He hopes he’s not tiny compared to Gerard, but he is actually.

“Well it would’ve been a good reason to mention for why you hate art.”

Frank shrugs, “Yeah but it was kind of fun leading you on to believe I was just a cynic.”

“Well you _are_ a cynic,” Gerard answers, “and a really snotty one at that.”

“Snotty? This stick may be for walking but I’m not afraid to hit you with it,” Frank says. They’re still standing in the same place, and don’t seem to be moving anywhere right now.

"Maybe you could do that some other time. Right now I have to get back to work. You're still welcome to come with me if you'd like."

Frank is a little shocked to say the least, but he knows not to get his hopes up. There are few people who show interest in him after knowing that he’s a blind smartass, but they rarely ever stay around. Frank knows this guy will possibly be gone within a blink of an eye. 

"Sure, I don't see why not."

"You have an odd sense of humor."

Frank chuckles and starts walking towards Gerard's voice, “That makes up for the lack of my sight sense.”

Gerard nods before realizing Frank won't see him so he begins speaking, "I like it. It's good to have a sense of humor about things. Otherwise you'd be mundane all the time, and I don't do too well with those types of people."

"I'm glad to know that. I don’t know what I’ll do with that information, but it’s nice to learn new things."

Frank lets the sarcasm drip from his statement, but Gerard doesn't mind or is used to it by now. Frank decides to go with the latter. He wonders why this guy is taking a liking to him in the first place. Gerard has to have better things to do than lead around the blind to see comics that he won't actually be able to see. Frank has a brief moment to wonder if he’s finally found someone who can be his confidant. 

He doesn't want to get too ahead of himself, but he can't help hoping for the best from this guy. Sure, they've only been in each other's presence for all of ten minutes, but Frank is still thinking ahead already. He hasn't been in this new town for long, and already he's found this guy who can keep up with him verbally, and wasn't put off by him after he first opened his mouth. Frank can't help but to be a bit optimistic about it, even though optimism has never been a strong point for him. 

"So since you can’t see, does that mean you’re into music?”

“I care more about music than people,” Frank says.

“Well okay. Do you play any instruments?"

“Guitar,” Frank is blunt and to the point. He doesn't want to go too far into it, but he can tell that Gerard won't leave it there by the excited intake of breath he hears. 

"Really? Are you any good?" Gerard asks.

"I'm alright."

"How long have you been playing?"

"Years."

"I have to say you’re the most unenthusiastic person I’ve ever met. What's the problem with actually talking to me?"

Frank sighs and stops where he is. He moves his cane around and hits Gerard in the leg with it. 

"Ow!" Gerard shouts.

"Just making sure you were still here."

"I won't be if you beat me to death with that thing!"

Frank shrugs and Gerard stuffs his hand in his pocket. 

Frank says, "Right now, I don't want to talk about music. I'm just not in the mood for it."

“I just wanted to get to know you better. I'm sorry,” Gerard replies, sounding a little hurt.

Frank is floored with Gerard's statement. People never want to get to know him, they just want to get to him. They say cruel things and do cruel things to get to him. Gerard can't be a real person. There is only one more logical reason, and Frank decides to speak up on it. 

"Who put you up to this?"

"Excuse me?" Gerard asks.

"You heard me good and well, or are you deaf?"

"Is your life that fucked up that you'd think someone would put me up to talking with you?" Gerard responds, not trying to sugarcoat it.

Frank looks around as if he could see the people watching and laughing at him in the first place, and then he shrugs his shoulders. 

"Look, I don't know. I haven't been here long, but maybe someone heard about my inability to see. They could've even spotted me entering with my cane and put you up to it. So excuse me for being a little paranoid."

"A little is an understatement," Gerard says.

"Yeah well, I don't see anyone lined up around the corner to meet me, do you? Or you for that matter."

Gerard grins at Frank. There he is making his jokes again. Gerard admires that the boy can be so nonchalant about losing his sight. Gerard could never be that strong. 

“Actually there is. I have a whole posse that follow me around wherever I go,” Gerard states, sarcastically.

“Well they’re awful quiet aren’t they?”

“I suppose they are,” Gerard says.

“So I don’t see any comic book shops, are you sure you’re not just a hopeless dork imagining things?” Frank asks, “Are you best friends with Batman as well?”

“I resent that,” Gerard replies, “but just, ugh, it’s around the corner.”

“Can I be certain that you are in fact leading me to a comic book store rather than a vat of honey and feathers you wish to cover me in, or a large knife you wish to stab me with?”

“That’s not a very good idea, is it? How stupid would I have to be to kill you in the middle of a mall?” Gerard asks.

“Well I’m just curious, because I’ve had enough of false kindness in my life, alright? I’ve had enough of the ‘hey Frank, your classroom is over there’ and then getting locked in a closet. I’ve had enough of the ‘kick me’ signs on my back from people who were ‘just trying to help me get around.’ I’ve had enough of it, okay?”

“I didn’t mean anything malicious, Frank. I didn’t even know you were blind, how could I have been paid to screw you around? Besides, why would I want to?”

“Please. Do I look gullible?” Frank asks, “Actually, that was a real question. Do I look gullible? Or do I look smart? Oh, do I look hot?”

Gerard looks over Frank and shrugs, “Yeah, the last one is applicable.”

“Very funny. Take me to your leader comic boy!” Frank says, and then he pokes at the place where Gerard’s feet are. He’d guessed as to where Gerard was standing, but he was pretty close.

“If I’m comic boy that makes you Daredevil,” Gerard says.

“Who?” Frank asks.

“Daredevil,” Gerard says and then turns to look at Frank surprised, “hold on, you can’t tell me you don’t know who Daredevil is!”

“I don’t know who Daredevil is.”

“Seriously? Daredevil is a blind superhero. I’d have thought you’d know who he is,” Gerard says, “There’s not too many blind superheroes, at least I’m only aware of the one, so I figured you’d at least appreciate him.”

“Never heard of him,” Frank replies.

“Well you’re in luck then,” Gerard tells him, “because this is where I work.”

Gerard opens a door and there’s a ringing sound. The atmosphere in the shop is different than outside. He can tell that it’s a lot emptier. The rumble of noise from outside doesn’t make it into the store.

Frank looks around, pretending to take a thorough look at the shop, but Gerard only rolls his eyes at Frank. He kind of likes Frank’s attitude, even if he probably shouldn’t, considering how cynical Frank is.

“It’s truly a beautiful store. Quite a nice use of store frontage. I like the displays as well.”

“You’re stunningly good at making those jokes,” Gerard says.

“I’ve got a lot of practice. Lead the way, comic boy.”

“My name is Gerard,” he says.

“And mine is Frank, but I’m not going to stop calling you comic boy.”

Gerard chuckles and shakes his head, "You are a piece of work."

"Hm... most people don't stay around to know that. You could lead me astray now so you don't have to work any harder, comic boy," Frank says, and Gerard smiles softly at him. 

"Now why would I do that? I like to work hard for what I want."

Frank's eyebrows rise high over his glasses and then he furrows them, "And what exactly is it that you want?"

Frank rises a questioning brow at Gerard. Gerard smirks at Frank and laughs lightly. 

"You... preferably as a friend.... first," Gerard says nonchalantly. A smile tugs at Frank's lips, but he isn't very good at hiding it. Gerard sees it despite Frank's effort and he shakes his head comically at Frank. 

"Most people don't want to be my friend or anything more. Most people want to throw things at me and laugh when they hit me in the face."

"You know what, you keep saying 'most people' and I'm beginning to become insulted. I'll have you know I'm not most people. I'm Gerard Way and I would like to be your friend."

"Way?" Frank giggles and Gerard decides he loves the sound of that. Now if only Gerard can be his friend he'd surely love to make Frank giggle more than a little bit. 

"What's funny about it?"

“Just like... 'lead the Way',” Frank starts laughing now, "You know, because I'm blind."

Gerard chuckles lightly, "Man your humor is sick."

“Yeah well. I'm fairly sure you should be getting back to work now. We've spent so much time talking and not enough looking at comics,” Frank says. Gerard purses his lips and nods. 

"You're right, but how about you meet me back here when I finish?"

"What time do you finish?" Frank asks.

"I have another hour left here."

"I guess I could go window shopping."

"If you want to shop, how about you find issue one of Daredevil. The one I told you about, and I'll buy it for you," Gerard suggests.

"Can you sense that I'm poor?"

"Most people who live here are, myself included."

"So why would you waste your money on a complete stranger that you just met? Furthermore, one who can't even read what you're going to buy him," Frank questions.

"Because I was hoping that I could help you with that. You seem to listen a lot. Plus, I have a job. I can afford to spend a few bucks on a comic for a potential friend.”

“I’m making no promises as to the institution of any such friendship,” Frank says. Frank thinks about it for a second. Why is this guy being so nice to him? 

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

"I thought we went over this. I want to be your friend," Gerard says, “Do you really think the twenty something working at a comic book store has many more friends than you?”

Frank sighs annoyed and stomps his foot lightly, "Really Gerard? Just tell me."

"Oh! You used my name!"

"Shut up. Just answer my question. Why do you want to be _my_ friend? I'm sure there are plenty of nice people, who can see, willing to be your friend."

"They're humdrum, you're not. I like you. You're cynical and I like that too, but only coming from you. I guess because you have this kind of attitude that you shouldn't. If you could see I probably would've dismissed you faster than summer break, because on you, it’s not just you being a twat."

"So am I a pity case because I'm blind?"

"No! You have this way about you that I like. You're a nice guy in your own cynical way. You're not bad to look at either," Gerard says.

Frank knows what flirting sounds like he’s just never heard it directed his way. Still, he wants to be sure that he isn't imagining things. 

"Are you flirting with me, Gerard?" Frank lets Gerard's name drip like poison from his lips. 

"Maybe I am."

Frank bites his lip, but not in a seductive manner; more like a thinking hard kind of way. Gerard doesn't miss it though, and he smirks. He's seen his fair share of blind people, but none of them were as attractive as Frank. Gerard likes that a lot, but he also feels like a creep for being a little pervy about a blind guy. 

"I'll go get that comic now," Frank says to change the subject.

The bell chimes as a costumer walks in and Frank's head turns in the direction. Gerard smiles at Frank. He thinks it’s cute how in tune Frank is with hearing. He watches as Frank’s head follows the direction she’s walking in. 

"You're a pretty good listener," Gerard notes.

"Well you would be too if that's all you had to help you get around," Frank says.

"You have a cane too."

"Look whatever, just call out the way I'm supposed to go, and I’ll find it myself.”

"Well for starters..."

Gerard takes hold of Frank's hips and turns him around. Frank feels warm at the touch and his breathing catches in his throat. 

"You have to go that way," Gerard says sultrily.

Frank knows he shouldn't, but he can't deny that he likes the feel of Gerard's breath on the nape of his neck, and his hands still firmly on his hips. Frank clears his throat and Gerard chuckles. He can tell he has some sort of effect over Frank which is a first. Sure he has an effect over other people, but never so soon. He knows it has to be because Frank isn't used to this kind of attention. 

"I think I got it now. Just tell me when to turn."

Gerard nods and reluctantly lets go of Frank's waist. Frank puts his cane out in front of him and moves it back and forth. It hits a shelf and Frank turns his head in the direction of it. He stands there for a second and then starts walking again. He hits another shelf but continues on. Gerard adores the boy for some reason, and he hasn't even known him that long. He likes how he can get himself around. 

"Hey listen... what's the aisle number?" Frank turns and looks over his shoulder in the direction of Gerard. 

"Five. I was going to tell you."

"Well, I just feel a little weird with you watching me."

"I'm sorry Aisle five, all the way to the end, third shelf. How did you know I was watching you?"

“Eyes in the back of my head,” Frank says.

“I should’ve known,” Gerard chuckles.

Frank nods and starts walking again. He hits the third bookshelf and nods to himself as he counts. He walks until he gets to the fifth shelf and turns. Gerard smiles brightly and looks over at the other customer. She’s looking in the direction that Frank has gone. She has a confused look on her face. Gerard walks over to her and behind the counter. 

“I'm sorry for the wait. Just helping a customer,” He says.

"No problem."

She starts taking the comics from her basket and sitting them on the counter. She keeps looking back and then up at Gerard skeptically. Gerard starts ringing up her stuff and ignores the way she’s looking at him. Finally she speaks up and Gerard is shocked by what she has to say. 

"Um... he's blind, so why is he purchasing comics? I mean he can't very well read or see them."

Frank clears his throat and the lady turns to look at him. He stands there with Daredevil #1 in his hand, and his cane in the other. Gerard hadn’t actually expected Frank to find the right one, but he’s talented in that respect.

"Your ignorance isn't bliss and it's obvious your hearing isn't too well either. So can I ask why you listen to music when you clearly can't hear a blind person coming up on you with a clinking cane hitting the floor?"

Gerard fights back his laughter, and silently applauds Frank. 

"How do you know I’m listening...?"

"I hear your iPod playing in your pocket. You know what else I can hear? I can hear people talking shit about me. Here’s something that may not have occurred to you, but I do have ears, and I can hear people reading to me. I suggest you mind your own business and stop being ignorant."

The lady stands there in astonishment, "Whatever."

She pays for her items and then walks out of the store slowly. 

“You can stop staring at me, and have a nice day,” Frank yells at her. The lady's eyes grow wide and she turns to leave the store quickly. 

"That was fucking awesome."

“Yeah well,” Frank shrugs, “I _am_ fucking awesome, that’s not big news.”

Frank sighs slowly and sits the comic on the counter. Gerard looks at Frank closely and he can tell that what the lady said got to him a little bit. Frank isn’t saying it, but there’s some part of him that apparently still isn’t used to being blind.

“Hey, she was an idiot,” Gerard consoles. Frank nods and looks up at Gerard. Gerard smiles down at him and pulls the comic over to himself to ring it up. 

"I know she was. It just gets tiring sometimes. You know I live for making people look stupid though. So it almost makes people's ignorance worthwhile."

Gerard laughs and takes out his cash to pay for the comic book. 

"You're right. I wish you could've seen the look on her face. Fucking priceless, man."

"I can imagine," Frank says. Frank smiles brightly and Gerard is taken aback. This is the first time he’s seen Frank genuinely smile and it’s amazing. 

"Your smile is beautiful."

Frank's smile falters, "What?"

"You have a beautiful smile."

Frank stops smiling and looks away from Gerard. Gerard’s not positive what he said that was wrong. His face hesitates tellingly, and he tries to recover himself until he realizes that Frank’s got no idea what the hell he looks like right now or at all.

"Uh, could I get that comic now? I'm gonna go wait out at the food court."

Gerard sighs but hands over the comic book, "I'm not like everyone else. When I say something I mean it."

"Yeah, I'm sure."

Frank moves his cane about and heads towards what he knows to be the exit. He had been counting the turns he made when he entered the store, which is something he’s gotten pretty good at. He stops and looks back towards Gerard. 

"Yeah, you're right," he says shortly.

Frank continues walking and pushes the door open. Gerard watches as he walks through the mall until he disappears from sight. He makes his way back to the food court, following the rumbles of voices. Frank finds a seat and sits down at the table. He can feel people’s eyes looking at him, wondering what the blind guy is doing at a table by himself.

He sits the comic on the table and run his fingers across it. The paper feels lightweight and he wishes he could look at it. See what the art is like, or what the words say. All that’s running through his mind is the hunger to see the little nuances from the ink, and the faces of the characters. 

His mind is racing a mile a minute. He can't understand why Gerard took a liking to him. People don't just compliment Frank and buy him things. The only person who does that is his mother, but Gerard was showing him a different kind of affection. One that's frowned upon if a mother shows it to her son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment?


	4. Red, the Color of Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank explains how he lost his sight.

“Hi Frank,” A voice says near Frank’s head, “so you stayed around. I’m glad.”

“Shh, you’re interrupting the juicy story about the well-endowed guy in the sauna,” Frank says, and points to two teenage girls a few tables over. They are evidently the victims of Frank’s eavesdropping.

“Am I really?” Gerard asks. “Well what have I missed?”

“Well basically, one of them was at the sauna, and there was a guy there who was well-endowed,” Frank says, “or at least that’s what I hear.”

“You’re creepy,” Gerard shakes his head laughing, and he takes the seat across from Frank.

“Thank you. I try,” Frank says, “so what’s up, comic boy?”

“Have you forgotten my name already?” Gerard teases.

“Gerald if I do recall correctly.”

“So close,” Gerard says.

“Well I tried. Gold star for effort.”

Gerard shakes his head, “no you don’t get a gold star. No gold stars for you.”

“Meanie,” Frank frowns, “so what brings you here to this corner of the food court?”

“You.”

“Well don’t I feel well special,” Frank says fanning his face mockingly.

“Oh shut up,” Gerard says smiling. He likes the fact that he doesn’t have to hide the smile on his face talking to Frank. He can just look at him and take in the way Frank looks.

“But if I shut up how will I be able to amuse you with my satirical narration of life?” Frank asks.

“Valid question,” Gerard says. “To be honest I didn’t expect you to still be here.”

“Yeah well, I needed directions to the Starbucks,” Frank shrugs.

“Oh I see,” Gerard giggles. “So you enjoy your coffee then?”

“I _love_ coffee,” Frank replies.

“We have that in common,” Gerard says.

“Well now we have a lot of things in common,” Frank says, “We’re both annoying as hell.”

“I resent that.”

“You were meant to.”

“I see how it goes,” Gerard says, shaking his head and smiling.

“I don’t,” Frank replies, “but I don’t see much of anything.”

Gerard frowns a little, and then decides to ask the first question on his mind, “So I don’t mean to be, like, disrespectful or anything, but I was wondering if you’ve, like, always been blind?”

“Um, no,” Frank answers hesitantly, “I lost my sight when I was nine.”

“Oh, what happened?” Gerard asks.

“Well,” he sighs, trying to remain neutral about the story, “I was a kid, and my friend and I were walking down the street, and it was sort of late. I lived in maybe not exactly the safest place in the world, but anyway we were walking down the street and some guy jumped us. I didn’t really know what to do, right, because it was weird, what do you do in that situation? So I tried to tell him that I didn’t have anything. I guess I just pissed him off more, because he threw me to the ground and slammed my head against the sidewalk. He sort of, like, grabbed my hair and then whacked my forehead a couple of times, and then I passed out. When I woke up in a hospital bed, I couldn’t see. It was pretty simple when I look back on it, but it changed my life.”

“Oh,” Gerard says, “so, what happened exactly that made you lose being able to see?”

“Blood clot,” Frank says, “I slammed into the pavement which caused a blood clot in my brain. No one knows if it’s permanent, but until they figure that out, I can’t see. The thing is that I’m not actually blind. Or, well I’m not blind in the way that you’re probably thinking. You’re thinking like a big black eternal abyss or something, and due to the nature of my accident, that’s not the case for me.”

“So what do you mean then?”

“Well I can’t see anything the way regular people do. I can’t see it for real, but I can see sort of blurs when there’s enough light. It only really works when there’s some light, kind of like shadow puppets. I see forms, but it’s blurry to all hell. Think of the blurriest setting on a pair of binoculars, what I see is a little worse than that. Basically what it means is that on a sunny day, I’m not going to get hit by a car. It’s really not much, I can’t read words on a page, or see your face, but at least I have an idea as to where you are by going off more than just a voice.”

“Okay,” Gerard says, “Will you ever be able to see again?”

Frank sighs, “Don’t know. Hopefully. Maybe someday. I really would like to see a lot of things. Before it happened, if I could’ve been given the chance to take one last final look at everything, just to try and remember it, I’d love to have been able to do that. I really wish I’d appreciated my sight when I had it. I never appreciated the color of the sky, or the texture of artwork. I’d give a lot just to see, like, the Mona Lisa again or something. I don’t remember what she looked like.”

“So you don’t even know what you look like?” Gerard asks.

“Not really, no,” Frank says, “I mean, I know what shape my nose is, and what my ears feel like and all that, but I can’t picture them the way I used to. I have a lot of trouble picturing colors and stuff. Like I don’t know what some colors look like. I lost blue a long time ago, and I can’t even pretend to remember what it looked like. It’s like trying to remember something that you know is there at the tip of your tongue, but you just come up short.”

“So what colors _can_ you remember then?”

“Well it depends. I think red is something I’m familiar with. Red seems to be easy for me to picture. It’s like, you never realize this, but when you’re angry or really steamed up, you see red. Not just in a figure of speech. I see red when there’s something that pisses me off, and it still processes in my head. Plus red is a violent color. It shows up better to my eyes in a sense, because it’s really just strong. Yellow is too pale, and so are greens or blues, but red is this really in your face color. It’s really just _there_ , you know?”

“Not really. I guess I’ve never appreciated the color red the way you have,” Gerard says, “you know Daredevil, he’s red.”

Gerard picks up the comic that Frank had set on the table, and Frank can hear the sound of him riffling through it.

“Is he?” Frank asks, “What else is there about him?”

“Uh, well, I don’t know,” Gerard says and he looks down at the comic to try to find the words to describe him. “He’s got this sort of smoldering look to him, like he’s trying to make himself look attractive. Lips pressed together, if that makes any sense? Kind of like he’s always pouting.”

"I had a teacher that looked like that once. She was attractive, but oh so broody. We called her 'the thorny model.' You know how models do that lip thing you described and they barely even laugh because they're trying to keep up with their looks. Like if they laugh they'll all of a sudden become ugly or something. It looks like they’ve got a thorn in their side. Honestly it was like she had a stick up her ass, hence the name. "

Gerard laughs and Frank smiles again, but he quickly stops when he remembers what Gerard said about his smile. Gerard notices but he decides not to speak up on it. He'll let Frank warm up to him at his own pace. He just really wishes Frank will let him see that beautiful smile. 

"Do I have that look?" Frank inquires.

Gerard laughs and shakes his head, "Nah. You don't need to try to look attractive. You already are."

Frank opens and closes his mouth a few times like a goldfish. He doesn't know what to say to that. He just sits there and looks around. 

Frank takes his sunglasses off for a moment to survey the room around him. He sees a lot better without the shades, but his eyes tend to freak people out. His eyes fixate on someone in the distance who is, of course, wearing red.

"Do you see that guy right there?" Frank nods in the direction. 

"Yeah? Wait, how did _you_ see him?"

"He's wearing red," Frank smiles but doesn't bear teeth this time. Gerard still thinks even that’s beautiful. 

“I can’t really see him, but I see him like I know he’s there. He’s still a blur, and if this mall were any darker I wouldn’t see him at all, but I do,” Frank says, and he puts the sunglasses back on.

"Cool. That's pretty cool. Maybe I'll wear red the next time I see you."

Frank is stumped again. Gerard is planning on seeing him again and he doesn't even bother to sugarcoat it. 

"Who says _I'll_ wanna 'see' you again?" Frank asks.

"I'm hoping you will, and this time actually kind of see me."

"Maybe," Frank looks down and swirls his cane nervously in his hand. 

"What do you look like?"

"Oh me? I'm nothing special," Gerard says with a shrug.

"Join the club."

"How would you know you're nothing special?"

"Like I said before, people aren't actually lining up to meet me. They aren't even nice enough to me. I think if I looked good enough someone would try to be nice to me," Frank says.

"And what do you call what I'm doing?" Gerard asks. Frank gets all quiet and swallows loudly. 

"Uh," Frank looks down and worries his lip. "How about that description? What do you look like?"

Gerard smiles at Frank. The kid is cute. 

"Uh, let me think. I have hazel eyes, nearly green in the right light, nothing special. I have a pretty round face. I uh, have tiny teeth that look like I've been chomping on wood," he says, and Frank smiles getting Gerard to continue talking so he can keep that smile there. "I have pale skin. I wear a lot of makeup, I guess. I have hella bushy eyebrows. Your eyebrows are perfect."

Frank scoffs, "Cut it."

Gerard shrugs and continues describing himself, "I guess I have thin lips and a weak jaw, unlike yours. Yours is so prominent and strong."

"Really?" Frank asks, and Gerard makes a noise of affirmation. “What color is your hair?”

"Oh it’s bright red. Shockingly red,” Gerard says sardonically.

“Really? I think I’d notice that,” Frank says. 

“Fine. It’s black. Nice length. Most of the time it’s unwashed,” Gerard says. “And uh, lastly I have high cheek bones, some people refer to them as girly. I refer those people to the dictionary definition of ‘fuck you’. I'm kind of your average waste of space."

"Hm," Frank nods. "Well then I guess you're just like me."

"I don't think you're a waste of space."

"But a lot of others do."

"Fuck them," Gerard says.

"I don't think they deserve the goods if they don't like me for me," Frank responds.

Gerard chuckles slowly and leans forward, placing his chin in his hands on the table. Frank senses his closeness and looks down at what would be Gerard's face if he could see. 

"Do you mind if I touch you?" Frank asks, out of context.

Gerard is caught off guard by that question, especially since Frank doesn't seem like the touchy type. 

"For what?"

"You have a pleasant voice. This might sound stupid, but I can't imagine you looking as mundane as you just described with a voice like yours. I'd like to feel what you look like."

Gerard nods and reaches out for Frank's hand that is resting on the table. Frank tries to pull it back but Gerard tightens his grip, making Frank seize up. He pulls Frank's hand towards his face, and lets Frank do the rest. 

Frank starts at Gerard's forehead. It feels fairly tiny compared to his mother's. He moves to Gerard's eyebrows next, and smiles when he feels how bushy they are. Gerard smiles back at Frank but doesn't say anything. Frank smoothens Gerard's eyebrows over and then pulls back for a second. 

"I don't think they're too bushy."

"Yeah, you wouldn't say that if you actually saw them."

Frank twists his lips and sighs. He reaches back out and feels for Gerard's eyes. Gerard closes them obviously, and lets Frank feel around. They feel a little sunken in, but not too badly. Frank's tongue sticks out at his bottom lip a little as he concentrates on Gerard's cheek bones. 

"Are they rosy like a woman's also?"

Gerard chuckles and answers softly, "Something like that."

Gerard looks over and sees a few people looking in their direction, but he just rolls his eyes and focuses on Frank who is now running a hand along his jaw. 

"You do have a weak jaw."

"Why thank you," Gerard says sarcastically. 

"You're most welcome," A smile tugs at Frank's lips. 

He brings his hand up to Gerard's hair and takes a few strands between his fingers. He rubs them and then gets brave enough to run his fingers through Gerard's hair. A few people are now looking a little disgustedly in their direction, and Gerard raises his middle finger to those people. 

They shake their heads disapprovingly, and some people move while the others just stop looking. Frank doesn't miss Gerard's movement and he starts to ask what’s up, but once he hears the chairs screeching he decides he doesn't wanna know. He already has a good idea as to what was going on. 

People are watching him. He feels their eyes and he wonders why he hadn't felt them a moment ago. Maybe because he was so focused on Gerard. He decides that if Gerard can make him oblivious to the stares of rude people, then Gerard is worth seeing again. He needs someone around like that. 

"Don't think I don't know they're staring. I can feel it," Frank says to break the brief silence.

"They're fucking idiots, and I was sure to let them know what I think of their staring. People like that deserve to be blind, not you."

"I get what you mean, but I would never wish this on anyone," Frank says, which is a drastic difference in his personality. Frank’s this cynical, albeit kindhearted guy, and that statement contradicts what he’s shown Gerard of his personality.

“I understand,” Gerard says, after stumbling for a moment.

At the same time they both realize Frank's fingers are still intertwined with his hair. He pulls them away slowly and smiles a little. 

"Your hair feels fine."

"That's because I decided to wash it today. I'm glad I did too," Gerard says.

Frank blushes and looks away. He isn't this type of person. He doesn't blush and smile this much. He walks around with a tough exterior, if you will. Not tough in the sense that he'll beat people up or something, but in the sense that he doesn't let people in. He doesn't trust people this easily. 

Well, Frank doesn't think he trusts Gerard whole heartedly, that'd be stupid, but he feels like he could in the long run. Frank realizes he isn't done with feeling Gerard out, so he reaches back out and touches Gerard's nose on the first try. 

Gerard smiles and praises Frank, "You're pretty good."

"Once I know my target I rarely ever miss."

Frank admits that that may have come off like a come on and maybe he wanted it to. Gerard definitely notices, Frank knows because of the kind chuckle he lets out. Frank gets bold and moves down to Gerard's lips. Gerard is shocked at first but doesn't let on to it. 

Frank moves his fingers lightly back and forth. Gerard is mentally thanking the high heavens that he put on chap stick. Frank knows the texture of chap stick and notes that Gerard is in fact wearing some. He pulls his fingers away and smells them. 

"Cherry... I wear the same kind," Frank says.

"Marking that for future reference."

Frank detects the smile in Gerard's voice and lets himself smile back. 

"Based on my findings, I will say that you feel like you look interesting."

"I'm not sure I do in the sense that you're speaking," Gerard says.

"Look, I may not be able to see, but as I just demonstrated, I can feel. You feel like you look nice. Unique, if you will."

"I can get behind that. No one looks like me, luckily. I’d feel sorry for them if they did."

"Well that probably makes you special. Your own kind. I feel like you're a beautiful individual," Frank states. Gerard is taken aback by Frank's bluntness. 

"Th-thank you?"

"Don't mention it, comic boy," Frank folds his hands in his lap and looks in Gerard's direction. "So how long are you going to entertain the blind kid before you get bored?"

"I won't get bored."

Frank thinks for a second and then remembers that he’s supposed to meet his mom at the entrance. He’d promised he'd ask someone for the time and she was skeptical about it. Now he has Gerard to ask, and he can even guide Frank that way. 

"What time is it?"

Gerard checks his watch, "It's approaching four."

Frank nods. He really doesn't want to go since this is the first time he’s felt like a real person in a very long time, but he has to. 

"Well, I have to meet my mom at the mall entrance."

Gerard frowns, but says, "Oh, okay. I could take you, unless that makes you feel some kind of way."

"It does, but you can lead me."

Gerard smiles and stands up. He walks around towards Frank and stands behind his chair. Frank stands up as well and turns toward Gerard. 

"Ready, Cinderella?" Gerard asks.

"Oh I am so gonna get you for that," Frank swings his cane at Gerard and just barely misses when Gerard dodges. 

"You're not safe. My first attempt may have been futile, but my next one won't be."

Gerard laughs loudly, and Frank just cracks a smile his way, "Lead the way, Way."

Gerard starts walking and Frank follows him at an even pace. When they get to the elevator and stairs, Gerard looks over at Frank. 

"What's your preference? Stairs or elevator?"

"I fucking hate steps," Frank professes.

"Elevator it is."

Gerard touches Frank's arm and guides him the short distance to the small moving cubicle. Frank lets himself be guided by Gerard. It’s nice, actually. It doesn't feel patronizing like when his mother does it or the few people who actually have tried to help him. It feels natural, like someone would guide their friend... or significant other. 

Gerard presses the button to call the elevator and luckily it’s already at their floor. Frank and Gerard enter when the doors open, and Gerard pushes the button. 

Frank hears footsteps running and then a call, "Hey! Hold the elevator!"

The doors are already closing and they’re pressed against the wall at the back of the small box. Frank puts his cane out and hears the doors jerk back open. Gerard smiles at him and then up at the lady and little girl that just stepped inside. 

"Thank you so much."

Frank looks in the woman's direction and nods to her, "No problem."

She smiles at him and then down at her daughter, "Say thank you to the nice gentleman."

She looks up at Frank, "Thank you."

Frank smiles sweetly down at her, "You're very welcome, young lady."

Gerard interrupts, "Hey, what floor are you going to?"

"Oh, I'm going to the first floor."

Gerard walks forward and presses the button. He then presses the ground floor for themselves, since it had gone off after being stopped. He then stands back next to Frank. The little girl tugs on Frank's pants and he looks down at her again. 

"Yes?"

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," the mother says.

"Nah, it's okay. What's up?" Frank asks.

"I like your glasses. Mommy won't buy me any. Says it's not the right weather."

Frank smiles at her, "Well your mother is right, but I need them so that's why I have them."

"I wish I needed them."

Her mother tisks, "Hush with that ignorance. You don't know what you're wishing for."

"I do. I'm wishing to look cool like he does."

Frank smiles brightly and chuckles, telling Gerard it’s okay to join in. Gerard knows it made Frank feel good to hear that, as his whole face lights up. 

"You have a fantastic kid," Frank says with a grin.

The lady smiles at them, "Thank you, but I'm going to have to talk with her."

The elevator dings and then the doors open. 

"It was very nice meeting you two. Take care," she says. They both smile politely at the lady and then Gerard looks at the little girl as she stops in the door. She then runs over and hugs Frank's leg. Frank is shocked and her mother looks mortified. 

"Oh god, I'm really sorry. She doesn't usually do this."

"He reminds me of my favorite superhero. Cyclops. He's cool mom, and nice. I like him," she says matter-of-factly.

The little girl is pulled off the elevator by her mother who scolds her, and says, "That doesn't mean you get to attack his leg."

"But mom," the little girl says, making the ‘o’ in mom go on a roller-coaster of sounds. The doors close on that and Gerard laughs uninhibitedly. 

"Seems you have a little friend," Gerard says.

"That was a first," Frank states, still a little stunned.

"I'm glad it happened. You're beaming," Gerard says, Frank looks away and schools his face. 

"Frank, you're allowed to enjoy life. You're allowed to smile."

Frank shrugs and heads for the doors when they open. Gerard is close behind him. 

"I think if people actually made you smile they would become enticed by you. Your smile could cure cancer," Gerard states.

Frank raises a brow at Gerard and tries to hide his blush, "Yeah, well I kind of need it to cure blindness instead."

Gerard scoffs and walks with Frank to the front doors. Gerard doesn't see any women who look like they’re waiting for anyone.

Gerard mumbles something that most people wouldn’t pick up, but Frank’s acute sense of hearing catches it, “Cyclops _is_ cool.”

“Hey Gerard?” Frank asks.

“What?”

Frank hits him in the shin with the cane and then laughs, “I told you I’d get you back for calling me Cinderella.”

Gerard frowns, rubbing at his ankle for a second, "yeah yeah. What time will she be here?"

"Four."

Gerard looks at his watch again, "it’s 3:58."

"Okay. You can go."

"After all this I don't get to meet the mother?" Gerard asks teasingly.

"No. She's not really welcoming. This isn't something I should just spring on her. She's worse than me, but that’s not saying much because I’m amazing. She'll wanna know you're whole agenda and why you're 'preying on her son.' You could commit a crime and not be drilled as much as my mother would drill you. I told you what happened to me, so you can guess what happens to her around strangers."

Gerard sighs and stuffs his hands inside of his pockets, "Okay."

"I'm not saying you'll never meet her, but I guess that's up to if you actually stay around."

"I plan on it, Frankie," Frank notices the nickname but keeps quiet. 

Gerard clears his throat, "How will I get in touch with you?"

"I know where you work. I'll stop by again."

"So I have to leave it all on you? How do I know that you’ll come around?"

"I guess you'll just have to trust the blind kid," Frank tells him.

"Hm, I guess so. Well it was very nice meeting you,” Gerard says, “I believe this belongs to you."

Frank looks confusedly until he feels the comic placed in his hand. 

"Oh right. Thanks," Frank says, because he’d nearly forgotten it. He’s not necessarily used to holding things and whatnot, so he’d forgotten it on the table in the food court. It’s a good thing Gerard was there then.

"No, thank you,” Gerard says mysteriously, “And I know we’re going to meet again, because you need someone to read that to you."

Before Frank can ask what Gerard had meant with his thank you, he feels the cool breeze coming through the door as Gerard exits the mall. Frank stands there and smiles to himself. Little does Frank know that Gerard is stood outside staring in at him from a little distance away. He just wants to make sure Frank will be safe. 

Frank feels like he’s being watched. He looks out in the direction that Gerard had gone and Gerard smiles at him, not to Frank’s knowledge. Frank's head snaps in another direction and Gerard follows Frank's 'gaze'. Gerard sees a woman who he assumes is his mother approach Frank and pat him on his head. A few words are exchanged and she sits her bags down. 

Next thing Gerard sees is her fixing Frank's jacket and Frank clearly objecting to it. Gerard laughs to himself and smiles when she kisses his cheek. Frank makes a face and then reaches his hand out for the bags. Frank's mother smacks his hand and he shrugs. Frank pushes the door open and his words ring out into the air. 

"I was just trying to help. You know, I _can_ carry things."

"So can I, so give it up," his mother replies.

"Like I had to give up seeing? If I have the ability to do something, I want to do it," Frank says. Gerard feels bad for Frank in this instance. He understands where Frank is coming from. 

"Well I don't need your help, Frank. You just walk. The car is to your left. I moved it when I left you."

"Are you sure you weren't fixing to leave me here?"

Frank's mother sits the bags down again and reaches for Frank. She grasps his arm tightly and turns him to her. Gerard tenses up in witnessing this, especially after what Frank had told him about what happened to him. Gerard doesn't think the woman looks harmful, so he just continues to watch and make sure. 

"Don't you ever say that again! I will never abandon you, do you understand me?"

"I guess," Frank says noncommittally. 

"I am not kidding with you, Frank."

"Okay mom."

"That's not good enough. Do you understand me?" She asks.

Frank sighs and nods, "Yes mom, I understand you."

"Good. You're the only good thing I have left in my life, and there's no way I'd ever leave you behind."

"How sad can your life be when a blind kid is the only good thing you have?" Frank questions.

"You're not a blind kid. You're are my son. My flesh and blood. I created you and you're my greatest creation. We hit a small bump, that doesn't mean I'd stop loving you because of it."

"If I recall the bump wasn't small and..."

"That is _not_ funny, Frank, shut up!" She says coldly. Gerard is shocked that Frank would actually joke about that. 

"Take this bag and go," His mother picks up a bag with what looks like bedding supplies inside. Frank laughs and takes the bag cheerily. His mom smiles at him. 

"So all I have to do is annoy you to carry something? Oh how you have set yourself up!"

She laughs and turns him towards the car, "Get going, boy."

Gerard smiles and walks away. Frank walks to a car with the bag in hand. 

"Right here?" Frank asks, next to a rundown car.

"Yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts so far?


	5. Welcome to Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank makes a 'friend' on the bus.

"Mom, I will be okay. Why must you treat me like a child?" Frank asks. 

"You _are_ my child. I just want you to be safe, Frank."

"No, you want me to be treated differently from everyone else. I understand I have a condition, but I still have to try and live normally in the real world. I can't do that with you always babysitting me."

Frank's mother slips his book bag on over his shoulder, and then turns him back towards her to fix his jacket. Frank protests, trying to push her away.

"I just don't wanna see you hurt," she says.

"I'm going to get hurt whether you like it or not. Not always physical either. Words hurt too, and you can't protect me from that."

"I can if I lock you up in the basement," she points out.

"That's fucking creepy, mom."

"Where do you think you get your creepy from?" she says, and Frank hears the smile in her voice. Frank laughs and shakes his head at his mom. He slips his glasses on and reaches for the door handle. 

"Are you going to let me do this on my own or not?"

"Because I love you enough to give you what you want, I will let you go this time, but Frank, I promise if you end up hurt, you'll never have that freedom again," she says strongly.

"We'll see about that. You said those same words before, but I always persuade you. Like right now."

Frank opens the door and steps out into the morning air. 

"Get in the car," she tells him.

Frank chuckles and shakes his head, "I don't think so. See you after school mom."

"Can I have the privilege of picking you up?"

"No you may not. Love you. Bye."

“You know I’m going to watch you from the window, right?” She asks.

“I figured,” Frank shrugs, “Do what you must, but if you come out to baby me like my first day of kindergarten, I will get really pissed.”

“Just go, or you’ll be late,” she says rolling her eyes. “You’ll want to go down the street and then to your right. I think there are a few other people there already.”

“Got it,” Frank says. He turns around to walk down the driveway, and perks his ears out to listen for any cars. He has to wait until he hears a car come down the street for him to figure out where he’s supposed to walk in the first place. Once a car passes, he figures out approximately where the curb is, and lets his cane train on it to guide him.

Frank doesn’t actually know where to stop, but he assumes, as it is a school bus stop, that he’ll figure it out. The snow from the other day didn’t stick to the ground which is probably the only reason his mom let him go. When there’s actual snow and ice, it won’t be so easy to convince her. Frank is pretty persistent though.

Frank has to listen for any cars whenever he steps in front of a driveway, and he knows where the driveways are because the curb stops for a little while. Frank doesn’t know when he’s supposed to stop at the bus stop yet though. He should be able to remember the way once he finds it once or twice. He can just count the number of steps it takes.

He’s tipped off when he hears someone shout at him from not too far away, “Yo dude, are you blind?”

“What? Me? Blind? Hell no,” Frank says, “My vision is clear as day. That’s why I walk with a cane and wear sunglasses everywhere.”

Frank wants to keep whomever it is talking, so that he can follow their voice to where he’s supposed to stop. It sounded like a teenage boy which is a good indicator.

“So you’re blind,” a different voice says, a female voice.

“My, you are very intuitive aren’t you? I’ve never understood the human need to state the obvious,” Frank groans.

“If you’re blind than why are you going on the school bus?”

“Because my hovercraft is in repair,” Frank says, and he stops in front of what he’s guessing is either two or three people. One is a boy and one a girl, and if there’s more than that, they haven’t talked yet.

“No but shouldn’t you go to, like, a special school?” the girl asks.

“Aww, you think I’m special,” Frank says sarcastically, “well thanks.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know it wasn’t. Sense the tone,” Frank says, and he wants so direly to roll his eyes at her, “I’m blind, I’m not inhuman. I can go to a regular school, but thanks for the attitude.”

“You’re the one with the attitude,” the male voice says. 

“I never denied that,” Frank says, and he stands slackly by the other two. He’s looking at where he thinks they are but it’s harder to tell because it’s outside. Sound carries differently outside than it does indoors.

Frank can feel the other people’s decision to become quiet, and he smirks. Apparently he’s already made a few people wary of him, which is his goal in most endeavors. Frank is lonely sure, but he also likes to be sarcastic. It drives people away, which is his own fault, but he doesn’t care enough to stop because that would spoil the fun.

They stand there for what seems like forever, but is actually another five minutes, before Frank's ears perk up to the sound of the bus approaching. He hears it before the other people there, and he stands up a little straighter, making sure he’s not in the way of it.

He hears the bus come to a stop and waits until he hears a kid’s footsteps on the bus steps. He shifts a little, but isn't too sure where to go, because the bus is too bright for him to see, despite how huge it is. 

"Hey, move a little to your left and walk forward," the girl speaks out. Frank’s wary of her helpfulness.

"How do I know you're not just waiting for me to smack into the bus?"

"She’s not, just do as the girl says so we can get on with this," the voice of an older man says.

"And who are you?"

“The person who will close these doors and go on without you. Now come on kid,” he says. Frank decides that’s the bus driver.

Frank hesitates before he decides he doesn't want to have to go back and tell his mom that he chickened out getting on a bus. He'd never live it down, and he'd surely be in her car the next day and every day after. Frank takes the steps forward as he was told. There’s a gap between the first step on the bus and the ground. It’s bigger than on a normal stairwell so he has to be more careful about it. Frank steps up and his foot slides off the step on his first try. He hears a few giggles from the people probably in the front seat, and he mentally rolls his eyes. 

"I can tell we're all gonna be great friends," Frank says sarcastically. 

"Why would we wanna be your friend?"

"It's called sarcasm you unintelligent buffoons."

Frank successfully makes it up the steps and starts walking down the aisle. 

Once the rest of the people on the bus see him it quiets down a little bit. For one thing, he’s the new kid starting a few months after school started. For another thing, he’s the blind kid, which makes him a carnival attraction. 

Frank doesn't exactly know where to sit since he can't see where everyone is. He keeps heading for the back of the bus, hoping he's the only one who actually wants to be back there, therefore leaving the seats empty. He trips on someone's foot and laughter breaks out in the bus. He catches his balance on one of the seats and straightens himself up. 

"Your mother must be so proud of you," Frank says to whomever tripped him.

"About as proud as yours is of you."

"Oh, I don't think she's that proud," Frank replies.

"Flake off," is the response, and Frank has to wonder how old they are if they use a term so childish.

Frank feels the bus lurch and soon they’re in motion. He decides to stand still until the bus comes to a stop. 

"What's wrong, can't walk while the bus is moving?" someone calls out in the distance, and Frank's head turns in that direction. Lucky for him the person is wearing red and sitting near the window, which is shining in quite enough light for Frank to see him. 

"I can walk I just choose not to. Just like you choose not to mind your damn business."

"Language!" the bus driver calls out. 

"So I get reprimanded for my language, but it’s perfectly acceptable to bully the blind guy? This society is clearly fucked up," Frank puts emphasis on the curse word and grips the seat tighter as he feels the bus stop suddenly. 

He begins walking again and decides to take the first seat he feels is empty. He sits down and moves over until he is near the window. Frank doesn't want to have to stand up so someone else can scoot by and sit down.

Frank takes up as much of his seat as he can to make people know that they’re not welcome to sit next to him. He collapses his cane and holds it in his lap, ready to smack someone with it if they bother him. He hears people all around whispering about him, and he just frowns at how horribly bad they are at covering up their whispering. 

He can feel several sets of eyes on him for a few minutes, but they soon start to look elsewhere. He’s sure he’s still got a few people staring at him still, but right now it doesn’t seem too bad. He’s not sure how long the bus route is, nor how many stops there are but he counts them so that he knows when to get off in the afternoon. He counts three when the bus stops again, and it’s starting to fill up. Frank is aware of someone in front of him, and there’s also someone across from him, and behind him. He isn’t actually sure how far back on the bus he is, but he assumes he’s not in the very back at least.

There’s the sound of a bunch of people filing onto the bus, and Frank tries to look as grumpy and unfriendly as he can, but he’s not sure what his face looks like.

“Excuse me,” someone says, “is anyone sitting there?”

“Yes,” Frank says, “I am.”

“Well there’s room for two people on one seat,” he says.

“No this is where my ego sits,” Frank says, “I’m here, but I need room for my charisma which is bursting with arrogance.”

“You can’t be that full of yourself,” the guy says, “surely if you’re that conceited, it would only take up half of the seat, so there’s room for someone else to sit down.”

“You haven’t a clue how vain I really am.”

“Vain or not, may I please sit?”

“I’m not going to convince you to go away, am I?” Frank asks.

“Well, I mean, if you don’t want me to sit there, then I won’t, but there’s like nowhere else to go.”

“Ugh,” Frank groans, and then moves his bag over a little bit to allow for someone to sit down. He keeps the bag between him and the guy who’d asked to sit, but he can still tell he sat down.

“Are you new?” the guy asks.

“I am,” Frank says.

“Oh, well, hey there.”

“Hi.”

“You’re not the most talkative guy in the world, are you? What’s your name?” the guy asks, and Frank groans.

“I don’t have a name,” Frank says, “or at least I don’t have a name that I’m going to hand out so freely.”

“I’m Patrick,” he says and Frank hears the rustling around that would suggest he’s holding his hand out for Frank to shake, but he declines to do so. 

“That’s nice.”

“I was kind of thinking we could make that a tradeoff or something. I gave you my name, so you can give me yours,” Patrick says.

“That’s how conversation traditionally progresses isn’t it? Well bad luck for you, because I’m not traditional.”

“Are you really not going to tell me your name?” Patrick asks.

“I don’t trust people as a principle,” Frank says.

“That’s kind of ridiculous, but I’m not going to argue with a guy I just met. I mean, I’m not going to be mean to you or anything. What would I gain from ruining your first day at school? Besides, if I wanted to pick on you, I wouldn’t need to ask your name,” Patrick says.

“Why would I be afraid of you picking on me?”

“Because right now, you don’t look like the most popular guy on the bus,” Patrick says, “but I’ll give you credit for pissing off a couple of guys before you’ve even started your first day.”

“Have I really?” Frank asks, straightening up in his seat with a little smile, “how many?”

“That’s what makes you happy?” Patrick asks.

“Somewhat,” Frank says, “I may not be Mr. Popular, but that makes you even less than I am, because you got stuck sitting next to _me_.”

“Good eye,” Patrick says, and Frank snorts.

“What’d I say?” Patrick asks. Frank lifts up his sunglasses and turns in Patrick’s direction to show him the milky quality of the irises underneath.

“I think you’ll find that my eyes are the opposite of good,” Frank tells him.

Patrick doesn’t seem to have that all that much of a reaction, which kind of bums Frank out. He’d kind of been expecting some big gasp and then maybe Patrick would fall out of his seat, which would be one of his favorite reactions.

“So you don’t trust people because you can’t see them?” Patrick asks.

“No. I don’t trust people because my life experiences would suggest that most people are untrustworthy, and you can’t really gripe with statistics that substantial.”

“Well look, you said it yourself. Do you really think that the guy who didn’t have anywhere to sit and had to settle for the back next to the new guy, is the most popular guy in school who will pick on you? But if you have some vendetta against telling people your name because of the outcome that follows, then fine. Don’t tell me.”

“Poor Patrick,” Frank says, “But I guess you’re right. If you make me regret talking to you though I’ll eviscerate you.”

“I’ve never known anyone who apologizes by threatening someone with evisceration.”

“Well now you know me,” Frank says, “I’m Frank.”

“Frank the cynical new kid,” Patrick says, “You’re going to have a really great first day.”

“I’m planning on it,” Frank replies. “And don’t you forget about my fantastic personality, as well as my insatiable knack for running into fucking everything like a magnet.”

“Language!” Someone screams.

“Fuck you,” Frank yells back and raises his middle finger up high. “What kind of school bus regulates fucking swearing anyway?”

“Well,” Patrick shrugs, “Welcome to hell.”


	6. Leading The Blind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Concerning cynicism and trust.

“How old are you then?”

“How old do I look?” Frank asks.

“I don’t know,” Patrick says, “how am I supposed to answer that?”

“Well, the thing is that I don’t know what I look like, so that was a real question that I was hoping to get an answer to,” Frank says.

“Right then. I don’t know, maybe seventeen?”

“Close. Eighteen.”

“So we’re in the same grade. I might see you around,” Patrick says.

“Well you’ll be seeing me, but I’m certainly not going to be seeing you.”

“You’re going to need a lot of help getting around though since we don’t have any blind students here,” Patrick says.

“Really? None? How diverse,” Frank says.

“Well it’s not the richest town in the world if you hadn’t noticed,” Patrick says, “and not the biggest either.”

“Dandy. This will be fun,” Frank says blandly.

“Well I’ll help you out.”

Frank scoffs and turns his head to face out the window likes he’s looking outside. He wishes he could. Wishes he could see the texture of the leaves passing by the moving bus, or the cracked asphalt in need of repaving.

“Do you not want my help? I’m offering it to you, but if you’re going to be mister ‘I can do everything on my own’ on me, than I won’t. Frank, I’m not trying to piss you off. I just don’t want you to have to go through your first day without knowing what the hell you’re doing,” Patrick says.

“You don’t have a lot of friends do you?” Frank asks.

“What?”

“You don’t have many friends. Either you’re a complete and utter dick who’s hanging out with me so that you can find ammunition to shoot me with later, or you’re in desperate need of friends and are hoping the cripple will be good enough.”

Patrick makes a dejected sound, “I’m not some big hotshot here, no, but I don’t _need_ to be nice to you, Frank. I’m kind of insulted by the way you think I’m out to get you.”

“Everyone’s out to get me.”

“Who wronged you that made you think that way?” Patrick asks.

“A more appropriate question would be, who _hasn’t_ wronged me?”

“The world isn’t great, I know that much, but you talk like everyone you’ve ever met was a bad person when that can’t be the case. A lot of people are full of crap, but there’s equally as many people who aren’t,” Patrick says.

“Well, you may be right, but I’ll tell you one thing,” Frank says, “there may be good people in the world, but one place you’re not going to find them is in the zombie oriented halls of public school. Being a good person in there makes you the anomaly, not the other way around.”

“You’re so negative. Honestly, it sounds like you use sarcasm more as a defense mechanism for insecurity than for anything else.”

“No,” Frank frowns, “I’m just a jackass who likes to piss people off.”

“That’ll be a good strategy for making friends,” Patrick says, “though I guess that’s somewhat of a hypocritical statement.”

“Don’t think I’m your friend just because I told you my name, Patrick. I don’t trust people, I told you that. I don’t trust you either. I don’t care how few friends you have or how unpopular you are, rottenness comes in all walks of life.”

“Well someone made you think like that. Who?”

Frank sighs, “I haven’t always been blind, Patrick. It’s not my fault that I am either. That’s why I don’t trust people. If it weren’t for other people, I’d still be able to see. I’d be regular. Ordinary. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be. But I lost that. So forgive me if I don’t greet you with open arms and a big smile on my face, okay?”

Patrick doesn’t respond immediately as the bus comes to a halt, assumingly in front of the school.

“So is that all people are then?” Patrick asks, “Potential threats who just haven’t hurt you yet?”

“I’m a cynic,” Frank says, “And I accept that, but the world is full of a lot of messed up people, so I have to think this way. Everyone else has an edge on me, which leaves me pretty vulnerable. I refuse to be seen as vulnerable though.”

“Well I guess that’s what makes you who you are,” Patrick says, and Frank is aware of him standing up, so he assumes that he’s now going to have to try to get off the bus.

All in all, it’s not too hard. Patrick tells him to grab onto his shoulder so he knows when to stop so as not to run into him. As it turns out, Patrick is short as fuck. Getting into the school is pretty uneventful, but Frank can tell that all eyes are on him. Patrick helps him into the school and to the office to get his roster. Frank doesn't exactly want Patrick tagging along like they’re new best friends, but he has to admit the help is much needed and appreciated. Now they’re standing at his locker and Frank is trying to figure out why they use the kinds of locks that they do in school settings.

“This school is incredibly poor,” Frank says.

“Poor as in having little money?” Patrick asks.

“Yes.”

“What makes you say that? You’re right, but how do you know?”

“Let me guess, they spend all their money on sports teams,” Franks sighs, tinkering with his lock.

Yeah, there are special schools for blind people, but what happens when a blind kid ends up in a regular school, like Frank? How are they supposed to get the lock open if they can't see where to turn and stop? It’s very inconsiderate if you ask Frank, but of course, no one asks the blind kid anything. They should have key pads with braille on them to make things just a little bit easier.

“There’s no attention to anyone with disabilities,” Frank says, “you don’t have any wheelchair ramps, or handicap accessibility of any kind, and I am so not looking forward to those stairs later on. You also don’t have the right type of locks for kids who can’t see the dial turn. You sure as hell aren’t going to have any braille in this whole goddamn school yet.”

“Well, I mean, considering you’re here now, maybe some things will change.” 

“Legally they have to,” Frank says, “but it’s not very interesting.”

Eventually, Patrick opens Frank's locker for him and Frank thanks him as nicely as he can muster without puking. It's not that Patrick is a bad guy, because he isn't. He could have left Frank alone with the tedious task of getting around on his first day, but he hasn't done that. Frank just doesn't feel too trusting, especially on his first day of school. This whole thing could be an act. Patrick could be working for _them_ , and by ‘them’ Frank means the assholes that he knows are staring at him right now.

“Do you need help getting to class?” Patrick asks, “I’m running a little late, but I can-”

“Just tell me which way I’m supposed to go then.”

“Alright, so you’re going to want to turn around, go straight forward, and then down the hall. Turn right and it’s the first classroom on your left. You have English first, with Mrs. Bentley, and she usually leaves her door open for the first ten minutes,” Patrick says, “and I’m sorry, but I really do have to go if I don’t want to be late.”

“Bye,” Frank says curtly.

“Okay, will you need my help getting to your next class?” Patrick asks, as he starts walking down the hall. Frank can tell it’s pretty much cleared out for now, so he’s going to be late too probably, but he’s the new kid, and blind.

“No, I’ll ask a teacher if I need the help,” Frank says. Luckily, his schedule has braille written on it which must mean that the school did plan ahead to his arrival a little bit, but he still can’t see room numbers.

“Good luck with that,” Patrick says, “the teachers here don’t care about students. They care about paychecks.”

That’s the last thing Frank hears from Patrick before he turns down the hall, going the opposite way of where Frank intends to be going.

He sighs and turns the direction Patrick had told him, and makes his way down the hall. He puts his cane out in front of him and he can feel the generic cheap tiling under his foot that probably reflects the many broken overhanging lights, but he sees neither of these things. He just makes his way down the hall until he hears a voice carrying out of a classroom. Patrick may actually have given him some good advice.

Frank walks over to the classroom after figuring out where it is, and then he knocks on the open door, so that he can make sure he’s found the right place.

“I’m looking for a Mrs. Bentley’s class,” Frank announces, “Well I say ‘looking’.”

“Frank I assume,” the voice of a teacher says, “you may take a seat.”

“Mhm, and where exactly may I take a seat? Telling me to take a seat means very little.”

“Just find an empty one.”

“I can’t,” Frank says.

“Do as I say,” she says.

“How?”

“You’re wasting my time. Just find a seat and sit in it, I don’t care where.”

“God I love public schools. ‘Find an empty seat.’ that’s like giving me permission to feel up everyone in the room to figure out if there’s a person there or not. In case you hadn’t noticed, I have a detrimental lack of vision that makes it very difficult for me to just find a seat without being told where one is,” Frank says.

“Are you talking back to me?” the teacher asks, “I told you to find a seat.”

“I know you strive to treat everyone the same way, as if we’re all shit eating goats, but really, there are some instances where it is acceptable to show a little compassion and tell the goddamn blind kid _where_ he’s supposed to sit.”

“Excuse me?” the teacher asks.

“Oh did I cross a line? I crossed a line. Oh well, too late now. I just wanted to get the point across to you that I can’t see where to sit down, so telling me to just find an empty seat is like telling a deaf kid to pick the best sounding kazoo.”

“I assume you just came from the office to get your schedule, so you know the way?” The teacher says simply, which is probably just the easiest way for her to tell him he definitely crossed a line and got himself in trouble.

Frank is almost disbelieving of the fact that he’s gotten himself in trouble this quickly. Usually when he got in trouble when he was younger it was for getting beaten up for calling someone a twat. It’s not his fault that everyone at his old school was a twat though.

“Yep,” Frank says, “I think I can make it. Or I’ll just stumble into the girl’s bathroom. You never know if you can’t see where you’re going.”

The teacher makes a noise like she’s considering something, and then says, “Blake, go with him.”

“Why do I have to help the cripple?’

“Cripple is a derogatory term, asshole,” Frank says.

“Office,” the teacher whispers.

“I can already tell this is going to be my favorite class,” Frank says with a grin, as he hears someone’s chair screech backward. He could probably find that chair now that he’s heard it, but he wanted to point out the teacher’s negligence as it was more fun that way.

“The dude was right though,” Frank says, “you teachers here really don’t give a shit about your students. Though I should get a world record for this. This has to be the quickest anyone has ever been sent to the office on their first day. Yay for me.”

The kid who Frank is assuming is named Blake, walks quickly ahead of Frank but not too far. He doesn’t say anything to Frank when he passes him, but at least he does seem to be doing as the teacher asked. Frnak keeps his cane out in front of him as he follows behind this Blake kid like a lost puppy.

"Say dude, what's your deal?" The guy asks. Frank looks at what he assumes would be the back of Blake's head if the lighting wasn't so shit in this school.

"What do you mean?"

"Why couldn't you just feel up a few people to get to your seat?" he asks. 

"I'm sorry but I'm not that kind of person," Frank says sarcastically, “Or at least, not before a first date.”

Blake scoffs and keeps up his pace. It’s clear to Frank that this dude wants to get away from him as quickly as possible. He probably thinks Frank is gross or infectious or something. People are stupid. 

"Why aren't you in a special school?"

"It's nice to know you think of me as special. I don't exactly like those kinds of settings though. I just absolutely love the joys of being shoved around by grumpy teachers and greasy students in public schools."

"How can you complain when this is what you chose?"

Frank snorts but ignores the boy’s question. Frank didn't choose anything. This is the way his life was supposed to go. He still wants to have the life he was going to have, there's just an obstacle that's been brought upon him.

"I asked you a question."

"I _chose_ not to answer it, Blake," Frank gives emphasis to the word 'chose'.

Blake turns sharply and stops in front of Frank. Frank knows because his cane hits the back of Blake’s feet, which he doesn’t seem to appreciate very much.

"At the end of this hallway you turn and then you will be at the office. I don't think you need my help anymore."

"I didn't need it from the beginning. So I guess I'll _see_ you around."

Frank walks around Blake and down the hallway. He feels Blake's eyes burning into his back as he continues down the hall. Before he turns the corner he stops and looks in Blake's direction.

"You know if you were going to stand there and watch me you could've just finished walking with me," he says, “though I guess you just really wanted to get a look of my fantastic ass. I don’t blame you on that one.”

With that Frank turns back around and heads for the office. He’s quite excited to explain that he pissed off a teacher already. His mom will be supremely happy to hear about that.

Frank huffs though and makes his way further down the hall. Frank accidentally hits some guy who’s at his locker with his cane. He’s not far from the office now, but he turns to say sorry to the victim whose foot he just whacked.

“Sorry about that,” Frank says. He wouldn’t say sorry were it not for the fact that he just hit a stranger and the fact that it was his fault.

“No, it’s fine,” the person says, a guy by the sound of his voice. “Do you know where you’re headed?”

“Kind of,” Frank says, and he decides that that’s a good enough explanation because he doesn’t like talking to people in general.

They don’t say anything more, but he hears the guy looking through papers or something. Or at least, that’s what it sounds like. He hears the sound of the guy dropping a book behind him, but Frank just keeps walking.

Frank is fairly sure he remembers where the office had been. Patrick had guided him from the entrance to there, and then to his locker. He’d just remembered the way that the hall twisted and the approximate value of steps it took to get there.

“Excuse me?” A woman asks when Frank enters the office. The door is open already, and he can tell it’s the same place he was in before, because this room is carpeted. It also appears to be brighter, and there’s a nauseating smell of drugstore perfume coming from a secretary that’s probably incredibly old.

“Yeah, I’m Frank, and-”

“Did you need help finding your way or something?” the woman asks.

“No, I pissed off my teacher and I was sent in here,” Frank says.

“It’s your first day,” the secretary states.

“Well I’m somewhat of a brat,” Frank replies.

“Okay, what class are you coming from then?” she asks and starts typing things.

“English. From someone named Bentley?” Frank says.

The secretary types something quickly on her computer, Frank listening to the sound the keys make in the room. It’s not a big room, but it’s much stuffier than the halls. The acoustics are more grating, making the sound of any echoes lose their way before they get the chance to bloom.

“Since it’s your first infraction, and your first day, I just need to contact a parent, and you can head back to class,” the woman says. “What was the reason?”

“I didn’t want to feel up a bunch of people to find an empty seat,” Frank shrugs, and he can tell that’s not enough of an explanation, “Your fine academic enforcer seemed to think that it would be okay to tell the blind kid to just sit anywhere, because she was too busy reading a stale page out of a completely fallacious and outdated textbook to give a shit that said blind student couldn’t see where the free seats were.”

“That’s all?” the teacher asks.

“Yep. All I did was state the obvious. I can’t find the empty seats unless I’m allowed to hit people with my cane. Looking back on it, I probably should’ve just done that. It would’ve been more fun. Pin the tail on the empty seat,” Frank says and he smirks to himself at the thought.

“That doesn’t seem to be that big of a deal to me, but I have an obligation to report it, sorry kid,” the secretary says.

“No, do your worst. My mom was going to be disappointed in me either way. If not this, she’d have found something else,” Frank says, “though maybe pissing off the teacher before I’d even stepped into the class wasn’t a good idea.”

“No, maybe not,” the secretary says. 

“If you want, you can just wait here until class ends so that you don’t have to face her,” the secretary says, and Frank decides that he really likes this woman. He may not like her perfume, but he likes her as a person.

“Well how much longer is the period?”

“About fifty minutes left,” she says.

“Sounds good,” Frank nods, “I can entertain myself for fifty minutes.”

“Okay then, you can take a seat to your left, but this is just a onetime deal, kid,” the woman says.

“Fine with me,” Frank says, and he finds the seat she’d directed to him.

Frank sits there and 'looks' around the office. He can guess where a few things are, but not many. He’s pretty sure he can make out what some of the things are though. Like the clock on the wall, it’s a stark white against a wall that’s probably beige. He also sees the flag in the corner of the room, as well as the huge computer on the desk. Frank’s still not quite used to how deep computers are, but he hasn’t seen too many in his life. Frank faintly hears the woman talking to his mother on the phone, as she tries to keep her voice lowered and professional for the setting. 

Frank can also hear the ticking of the clock on the wall. If he could actually see he'd be watching the hands go around said clock. Actually, if he could see he wouldn't be in this situation. He would've been able to grab a seat and get to work paying attention to the adenoidal voice of his teacher. He probably wouldn't even be in this new school because the move probably would've never happened. There's a lot of things that wouldn't have happened if Frank wasn't blind.

He probably wouldn’t have lost most of his friends. He probably would’ve been able to play a guitar for real rather than just ‘well for a blind guy’.

That’s all he is mostly. Whenever Frank does anything good, he does it well... for a blind guy. Frank is good at reading for a blind guy. He’s good at walking on the correct side of the road for a blind guy. He’s good at running for a blind guy. He’s good at putting a fucking straw in a cup for a blind guy. Everything he does is good, but only for a blind guy. Frank is held at a different standard, because of something so stupid. Nothing he ever does can be good for just a human. It’s always good for a blind guy. It gets annoying after the second time, so the millionth time makes him want to murder someone.

"Hey, could you tell me what time it is?"

"You have forty minutes left."

Frank chuckles and nods to her, "Thank you."

Frank gets quiet and slips back into his thoughts. Today could've gone way worse than it already has, Frank thinks. Frank supposes he kind of sort of made an associate. He won’t be calling Patrick a friend anytime soon. He won’t be calling Gerard a friend either. Acquaintance. Associate. Contact. Anything but friend.

Patrick is a nice guy and Frank can't deny that no matter how much he wants to. Frank doesn't trust him of course, but there’s nothing wrong in admitting that the guy may be worth keeping around.

Time passes by slowly but before Frank knows it, the bell is ringing out through the school and annoying the hell out of him. Frank is easily spooked by loud noises, especially buzzing noises, because they’re unsettling when you can’t see them. Frank stands up and thanks the secretary one last time before leaving the office. Frank realizes he doesn't know how he’s supposed get to his next class. At this, he turns around and back into the office. Frank walks over to the desk and from the movement he knows the woman is looking at him.

"How can I help you this time, Frank?"

"I apologize, I seem to be more needy than usual, but would you mind escorting me to my class?" Frank shrugs sadly because he really hates being this hopeless and having to intervene on other's time. "I don't mean to impose. Usually I wouldn't ask for the help, but I just really don't feel like all the bullshit of people leading me astray."

"You don't have to explain yourself. I am here to help, and I don't mind helping someone who actually needs it," she says and the sound of a rolling chair meets his ears.

"Well since you put it that way I don't need your help," Frank says, feeling marginalized as usual.

"Hush boy and follow me. Hand on my shoulder, let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to remind you that there's a comment section. No pressure, just reminding you.


	7. What's My Name Again?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So close to a Blink-182 song.

“Hey Frank,” A voice that Frank recognizes to belong to Patrick says. It’s coming from behind him so he turns around to fake the courtesy of looking at the person who’s speaking to him. Obviously he can’t see, and when he swings around he hits someone in the ankle with his cane. He can’t exactly see how crowded it is in here though so he doesn’t know who to dodge and account for.

These halls are so narrow and there’s literally no reverberation back at him, which is hellish in Frank’s mind. He can’t really tell where anything is. When he steps, the ground doesn’t make an echoing sound, and that’s one of the only ways he’s able to tell where things are. The room just absorbs all sound, and it makes things a lot more difficult for him. He’s going to have to memorize the layout of the school either way, but in this instance it’s more vital. He’s got to do it quicker, because he can’t rely on his ears in this place. Other places, sure, but not here. This is all about memory.

Frank is already not liking this school. He’s not fond of how twisted the corridors are, or the people, or the teachers, or the way it smells vaguely of gym socks and burning hair. The only good thing about this place is that no one here knows him yet. All the people at Frank’s old school knew him, some before the accident, and apparently he changed a lot between the ages of nine and ten, and lost most of his friends because of it.

Frank doesn’t buy that even a little bit. He hasn’t actually changed that much over the years. He just can’t see anymore. He’s still the same person. His friends all used him changing as an excuse to not have to be friends with the blind kid. Mostly he just swears more than when he was a little kid, but that’s because he didn’t know any swear words when he was younger. That’s the biggest way he’s changed over the years.

“So Frank, how’s the first day been going so far?” Patrick asks. Frank tries to figure out where he’s standing, but it’s not easy. This is not a good place to play Marco Polo. Frank doesn’t even know where Patrick is.

“Oh just great. I’ve already pissed off a teacher, and I think my only friend is the secretary,” Frank shrugs.

“You think ever so highly of me,” Patrick says.

“I’m more okay with trusting the old lady who let me ditch my first class, thank you very much,” Frank says.

“I helped you find your locker. And the front door. And-” Patrick stops himself, “you know what? Never mind. Let’s get lunch.”

“I’ll follow you,” Frank says.

“I assumed you would.”

Frank tries to argue with Patrick for a long moment about not wanting to have to grab his shoulder for Patrick to lead him the way there. Frank doesn’t want to be babied, and Patrick is being too nice. It’s weird. Patrick finally wins when it becomes obvious that standing in the middle of the hallway during the middle of a lunch period is not a very good idea. Frank may be good at dodging cars, but real moving people are another story. They’re scarier. Also it seems like they’re trying to walk right into Frank. He assumes this is mostly just because people are trying to get a closer look at the blind guy, like he’s a zoo animal.

Patrick eventually gets him to a part of the hallway where he won’t be trampled, and then leads him the way forward, weaving through people so that they don’t get stepped on. Patrick is short, so is Frank, so they’re not bad at getting through the barricade of people who trying to make it impossible to go anywhere. Frank can’t see a freeway, or any cars for that matter, but he imagines that this is what rush-hour must look like.

“So do you have any actual friends then?” Frank asks.

“Yes!” Patrick says defensively.

“Ah, but can you count all of them on one hand?”

Patrick doesn’t say anything for a long moment before he sighs and says, “Maybe.”

“That’s essentially the same as saying yes,” Frank laughs.

“I still have more friends than you if you’re honest about how distrustful you are,” Patrick retorts, and guides Frank into some variety of lunch line. It doesn’t smell very good in the cafeteria. It smells like a high school cafeteria which is pretty self-explanatory.

“Hold up, are you being distrustful of my lack of trust?” Frank asks, “Ironic.”

“There’s a difference between distrust and doubt,” Patrick says. “I’m sure you trust some people.”

“I don’t trust a single person on the planet. Except maybe Velma from Scooby Doo. That show would have been over by the first episode if it weren’t for her.”

“Not your own mother?” Patrick asks.

“My mom doesn’t even trust _me_. Trust has to be mutual otherwise it isn’t there at all.”

Patrick doesn’t respond immediately. Instead they reach the front of the lunch line and Patrick helps Frank grab food. Apparently there are some things he has to avoid if he’s not keen about projectile vomiting. Frank listens to Patrick on that one. He’s new to this school. It’s already making itself out to be pretty shitty, he wouldn’t be surprised at this point to find out that they’re serial food poisoners.

“Okay so it’s like really crowded in here,” Patrick says when they apparently get to the part of the large lunchroom with tables. Frank doesn’t know how to picture the room, because he’s not sure how big it is quite yet. He’s fairly sure that one of the walls is made up of windows, probably the side furthest away from him, because he can see only a blinding white in his eyes. He can’t see even the smallest bit of color because the room is just way too bright.

“I want to face the direction away from those windows,” Frank says pointing to where he thinks they are.

“How do you know there’s windows there?”

“I see light. It’s a long story. I know that there are windows somewhere in that general direction basically,” Frank says.

“Well okay. Are you okay with sitting at the loser table?” Patrick asks, “Well, one of many loser tables?”

“Any table that I sit at is the loser table,” Frank says, “and judging by what little I know of you, that’s true of you too.”

“Polite,” Patrick states, and Frank can feel the eyes rolling in the others head.

“Okay, just go, slowly, it’s kind of narrow between the tables,” Patrick says.

Frank makes it over to the table successfully, after hitting his hip twice on the corners, and sits down. He hears someone drop their tray on the table loudly and decides he may not like said person already. Frank's head snaps in their direction, trying to find wherever the new person is, because he’s sure that wasn’t Patrick. 

Patrick points over to Frank, unknowingly to him, "That's Frank."

"A name that's straight to the point. I like it. What's up dude? I'm Pete."

Pete sits down and Patrick follows behind him. Pete sticks his hand out for Frank to shake, but Frank doesn't notice. Usually he would feel the wind or something from the gesture, but this room just isn't the best for that stuff. This room is awful actually.

"Pete? Is that short for Peter?"

"Never, man. It's just Pete, and if you wouldn't mind, could you shake my hand now, my arm is kind of tired."

Frank chuckles and sticks his hand out in Pete's direction. He realizes he’s miscalculated the guy’s position when Pete's arm comes from a little further away than he’d expected. Frank's face must show confusion because Pete and Patrick both laugh. 

"He's just loud, man," Patrick tells him.

"Well I realized that when he started a drum line with his lunch tray on the table." 

Pete laughs and shrugs, because he’s heard that he’s loud before, "Hey, what can I say? I like for my presence to be known."

"That's odd, usually losers don't like drawing attention to themselves."

Pete's eyebrows rise high and he looks over at Patrick. Patrick shrugs and Pete moves closer to where Frank is in front of him. 

"Why would you assume that I'm a loser?"

"You're sitting at the table with Patrick, who evidently has fewer friends than he has legs, and a snarky blind kid. So, to be frank, we aren't the most popular crowd."

"So you just assume _I'm_ not because _you're_ not? That's like me assuming you don't get dressed on your own because you can't see. Don't be an ass."

"Whatever," Frank replies and for once he knows that he was stupid to assume. Pete was probably right. 

"I'm kind of well-known here, I guess,” Pete says.

“The schools soccer team sucked before Pete came along,” Patrick adds.

“You’re overselling my addition, Patrick,” Pete says, “but anyway, that doesn't mean I can't befriend Patrick just because others think he’s a loser. Or you."

"So you don't think we're losers?"

Pete stuffs a piece of the nasty broccoli in his mouth and thinks for a second, "I don't think Patrick is. Who made up the rules on what's considered a loser anyway? You on the other hand... I think you might be a loser since you like to assume. Only losers assume."

"You just contradicted yourself."

"I am well aware of that."

“I think I’m a loser,” Frank says, “I never knew that it was a term meant to insult. Sounds more like a term of endearment if you ask me. I’m a Loser, that’s a Beatles song, and the Beatles are cool. So call me a loser all you like, I don’t care.”

Frank shakes his head and leaves it at that. He starts picking through his food but gives up after a couple of bites. It is honestly the worst thing he's ever tasted. It's like they are truly trying to kill everyone; a fate better than school in Frank’s opinion.

Frank's ears perk up when he hears a voice he recognizes. He’s eavesdropping, because he doesn’t particularly care about whatever it is the other two are talking about. He’s come to the conclusion that no one else is going to sit there though. Patrick doesn’t have a surplus of friends at all.

The conversation he’s listening to isn’t very interesting, but it’s horrifically idiotic. It's that kid though, what was his name... Blake? Frank hears him speaking about his failed attempt with a girl and Frank laughs. Like honest to god, laugh out loud, almost chokes on his water, laughs. He feels Patrick or Pete or both of them look at him, but he’s too busy trying to hear the rest of the epic saga wherein Blake can’t tell the difference between flirting and talking.

Frank’s fairly sure that the kid didn’t hear him laugh, but Patrick asks him what he’s laughing about.

“Whatshisname sounds like a fucking douchebag,” Frank says, “I bet he’s the kind of guy who’s got a poster of a football player in his room who he’s secretly in love with, but would never admit to it, because he’s a jock and ‘jocks are supposed to be straight’. I’ve met lots of whatshisname’s.

“Who? Blake?”

“Sounds like his name,” Frank says, “what a douchey name as well.”

After another minute of listening, Frank honestly can't take any more of this, and decides to say something to the guy. Frank turns in the direction that Blake's voice is coming from and speaks out. 

"How can you actually get upset because she doesn't want to sleep with you? I could write you an essay on all the reasons why she wouldn’t want to sleep with you. For one thing, if you’re gossiping about how she turned you down, just imagine how much you’d gossip if she hadn’t. Good on her, sounds like a smart person for turning you down. I mean come on, you haven't slept with her and you're running your mouth."

Patrick’s voice is shaky when he says, "Frank what are you...?"

"Hush, Patrick! This dude and I go way back. We’ve said like twelve things to each other, we’re practically family. Besides, I'm only stating the truth."

Patrick stops talking and rolls his eyes at Frank, because he doesn’t want to get caught up in whatever game Frank is playing. Blake keeps staring at Frank while his friends say snide things under their breath. 

"Wow, you're actually speechless? Is my gorgeous smile getting to you? You’re so weak for me, aren’t you? First my ass, now my smile. What’s next? Are you going to ogle my tits?"

"I'm just trying to figure out how a blind prick has an opinion about anything."

"So because I'm blind I'm unable to have an opinion? Where is your logic, man?” Frank says, “Just because a bucket has a hole on the top doesn’t mean it can’t hold water! Just because a pencil doesn’t have an eraser, the lead is permanent. Just because both Madonna and I have eyebrows, we’re the same person. Dude, these are called fallacies, I’m pretty sure you should be able to build up an argument based on something that holds a little more water than your bucket with a hole on the top. My tip for you is not to become a lawyer.”

“What?” Blake asks, because he’s got the brain of a goldfish.

“Your honor, my client is innocent because both he and my mom have thumbs, and my mom has never committed a crime, therefore my client can’t have committed a crime,” Frank says.

“Frank, watch yourself,” Pete says.

“Did you just tell me to watch myself?” Frank asks, turning to look at Pete. “Really? Did you think that one through? What else should I watch? Hello! Blind guy!”

“You know what I meant.”

“I’m not going to walk on egg shells just because my good pal Blake over there is a sexist piece of shit.”

“What’d you call me?”

“I called you my pal, Blake,” Frank says obnoxiously, “do you not like that term? Buddy? Chum? Comrade? Mate? Oh maybe not that last one, that’s a little too British. Let’s keep it in the states.”

“What’s wrong with Britain?” Patrick asks.

“They pronounce jaguar weird. It bothers me,” Frank replies.

“What’s your name again, kid?” Blake asks Frank.

“I don’t recall,” Frank says, “Patrick, do you know what my name is?”

“Don’t bring me into this, I’ve never met you,” Patrick says, turning around in his seat.

“Well shit, I guess we’ll just never know,” Frank says.

“Pete, what’s his name?” Blake asks.

“Cool it, Blake. Leave the kid alone, he’s just a little... well, he’s a smartass.”

“That I am,” Frank says, “wait hold up, Pete. You’re friends with the prick who doesn’t know how to talk to girls?”

“Oh like the blind guy can talk to girls,” Blake says doubtfully, and his cohorts at the table with him all laugh. Apparently Frank is making enemies in two’s and three’s, which probably isn’t a good idea, but Frank has never been one to think things through.

“Why on earth would I want to talk to girls?” Frank asks, “I don’t want to talk to fucking anybody. I don’t want to talk to guys, or girls, or anyone outside and in between those spectrums. I just want to eat potato chips.”

“Same,” Pete says, nodding.

“Anyway, Blake, I’m gonna call you Blake if you don’t mind, your ‘pal’ card has been revoked,” Frank says, turning to face the direction of Blake again, “my suggestion to you is that you avoid interacting with anyone with a pulse, especially girls. And me. Don’t talk to girls, and don’t talk to me.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Blake says as a comeback, which is weak. Frank just frowns at it and wishes they could get some judges to go stand behind Blake and give him score cards for how weak that was.

“I’m disappointed with that, you could’ve tried harder,” Frank says, shaking his head. “Well see you around, Blake. That’s a figure of speech. I won’t be seeing you anywhere. That’s my gift to you though, because this way you can stare at my ass and I’ll be none the wiser, unlike the girls you prey on who, rightfully, punch you in the nose.”

Frank turns back to sit straight in his seat, feeling people still looking at him. Patrick himself is just oozing awkwardness.

“You probably shouldn’t have done that,” Pete says.

“Why? What sports team captain did I just piss off?” Frank asks.

“How’d you know he’s a sports team captain?”

“He’s got the mannerism of it. Self-righteous and arrogant.”

“Football,” Pete says.

“Oh it always seems to be the football players, doesn’t it? That’s so cliché. One of these days I would love to piss off, like, the captain of the chess team.”

“You did that on purpose?” Patrick asks.

“The power of infamy is one not to be trifled with,” Frank says.

Pete scoffs and shakes his head at Frank, "You're fucking looney, man."

“Call me what you want, it doesn't faze me,” Frank sighs, and lays his head on the table. Well, technically he lays it on top of his hands that are splayed out on the table. There's no way he'd lay his precious face on anything in this school. Look at that, even Frank's thoughts are sarcastic!

"So what are you gonna do when Blake tries to skin you alive?" Pete asks. 

"Tell him what kind of designs I'm looking for."

"Man, you really are sick!" Patrick voices. 

"Because I want tattoos?"

“No offense, but what’s a blind guy want tattoos for?” Pete asks.

“State of mind I guess. Intimidate my peers?”

“So for other people’s sake?”

Frank groans, “No, for mine. It’s not about anyone else.”

"Don't be a smartass, dude," Patrick says.

"I know we've only known each other for half a day, but I thought you knew me better than that. I _am_ an ass. I mean, even Pete realizes it. Get with the times."

"I called you a smartass."

"Same thing, fucker," Frank replies. Pete slams his milk carton onto the table after he finishes downing it, to silence the two boys.

"Just shut up you two." Pete speaks and then laughs when he hears Patrick gasp loudly and whisper 'ow'. 

"My bad. I'll improve my aim in at least two days," Frank says. Frank had been going after Pete, but he hit Patrick with his cane instead.

"You'd better hope so, and I'd better not be your target next time."

"With the way things are going, I'm sure you'll be my target, Petey," Frank says grinning cheekily.

"Don't you ever call me that again, Francis," Pete says in a warning tone.

"Holy shit! As long as you agree to never call me that again."

"Agreed. Here comes my hand, you should reach now," Pete says. Frank sits up and reaches for Pete's hand. 

"Good, now that we've shaken on that, I think you should have your mom hire some body guards," Pete says collapsing back in his seat.

"Why? When I have two of the absolute greatest friends in the whole wide world right here?" Frank surges sarcastically.

"Hey, I helped you this time, but I don't know about next time,” Pete says, “He's not exactly going to strike with others around. At least not others like Patrick and I, who aren’t on his side."

"Yeah, because he isn't gonna strike," Frank says confidently.

"You keep thinking that."

"I will," Frank says stubbornly.

"Are you gonna drink your milk?" Pete asks. 

Frank shakes his head quickly, "If it tastes anything like the crap they’re trying to pass off as food, I will pass."

Pete reaches over and snatches Frank's milk before he can change his mind, "This is actually the best thing they serve in this whole school. There hasn't been a milk incident in like 3 years."

"A milk incident?"

"Oh God," Patrick intervenes, "It was horrible man."

"What happened?"

Pete keeps drinking his milk so Patrick decides to tell Frank the story, which apparently was big news considering the size of the town, "So this kid went for his milk and when he started drinking it there were chunks in it. That shit was sourer than a lemon. Older than the dinosaurs. Smellier than Pete’s shoes. Luckily the kid’s parents didn't sue. They cleaned up their act on the milk after that. They didn’t get the memo on the sandwiches, oranges, apples, bread, salad, or anything else, but the milk, the milk is fine."

"Fucking nasty," Frank says cringing, and then trying to send away the little voice inside his brain repeating the phrase ‘Fortunately, the Milk...’ over and over again.

"You can say that again," Pete finally speaks. 

Not too long after that the bell rings, and the lunchroom gets louder than it originally was. Everyone gets excited at the dismissal of a class, because they're closer to going home. Frank would very much like to go home, but right now, he has to have Pete and Patrick take him to his next class. Just a few more hours though.


	8. Backstabbers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank's opinion of friendship and trust.

Frank's mother rushes out the door once she sees Frank approaching. She hadn't been expecting a phone call home on his first day of school, but then again this is Frank; with him anything is possible. 

"Hello mother. I had a great day, how about you?"

"Don't you dare start with your crap. What the hell happened?" Frank's mother hooks her arm in his, and rushes him up the pathway. 

"That's no way to handle a kid with a disability."

Frank's mother scoffs. "Oh now you have a disability? Cut it out Frank."

Frank laughs because he knew that would rile her up more. He never likes being called anything that has to do with him being disabled. 

"What happened?" She pulls him into the house and shuts the door. She turns to him and places her hands on her hips waiting for him to speak. Frank knows, even without seeing that she’s got ‘the look’ in her eyes like he’s in big trouble.

"You know mom... if I remember correctly, the secretary called you. I was sitting there when she did, so why are you asking me what you already know."

"I want to hear it from your mouth, smart aleck."

"I don't feel like repeating something I know you already know. That is a complete waste of time. Time I could be using to get to some homework."

Frank's mother sighs because she knows he has a point. No matter what, Frank is a very bright student. He gets all of his work done and turned in on time, though he would deny it if anyone ever asked him how good he is at school. Being smart doesn’t make him a punk or an asshole, so he must maintain his persona of being a slacker. Mostly that entails hiding his grades from people. The only problem Frank has with school is that he has his mouth. 

"We can talk about this over dinner. Go get settled and get to your homework. I'm going to go get dinner started. If you'd like you can keep me company in the kitchen while I cook."

"Why? So you can try and slip in the conversation now instead of later? I want to do my homework without the looming of your reprimanding soaring through the air," Frank says.

"Hush boy. Get to it."

“I was already going to, you don’t have to give me an order. If anything, being told to do something is what makes me want to do exactly the opposite. ‘No Frank, don’t throw a water bottle at the guy with the funny voice’ translates to ‘I dare you to throw that water bottle at the guy with the funny voice.’”

“Frank, whatever you do, don’t do your homework right now,” his mother says, playing along.

“You know what, just for that, I’m going to go get an A on this bitch,” Frank says, walking over to his room. Apparently, being the blind kid on his first day of school does not exempt him from doing homework. Go figure. Though he doesn’t have that much. The school was apparently more prepared for Frank than they let on, because they thought ahead enough to get his homework in braille. Good thing too, because it’s the most demeaning thing in the entire world to have your mom read quadratic equations to you.

About half an hour later, Frank’s called to dinner, and he decides the work he’s done is adequate enough to be considered finished. It’s only his first day, he doesn’t have a mountain quite yet, but that’ll change all too soon.

“Frank, it’s started snowing,” his mother says when he arrives in the kitchen.

“Dandy,” Frank says, “And I care, why?”

“If it sticks, I’m going to have to drive you to school tomorrow,” she says.

“No,” Frank says, “the bus stop is not that far, I’ll be fine.”

Frank is ushered into sitting down at the table with food that doesn’t necessarily sound fantastic, but he’s hungry. Also he got into trouble at school today and complaining about food might not be the best idea in the world.

“You can’t see ice,” she says, “you could trip and fall and crack your head open on the pavement.”

“That’s the same exact excuse teachers give to discourage students from leaning back on their chairs. I’m not going to break my face by slipping on ice.” 

“And how do you know that?”

“Because I refuse to allow that to happen,” Frank says, “If need be, I’ll just fly. Or melt the ice with my superhuman abilities.”

“Right, I’m sure,” his mother says.

“Hey,” Frank says through a mouthful of food which he’s sure pisses his mom off, “I’ve literally got nothing to lose. I slip, big whoop, but if I don’t slip, than I am officially fantastic. I may have nothing to lose, but I’ve got a whole hell of a lot to prove.”

He can practically hear the eyes rolling in his mother’s head, and he smirks. They’re silent for a little while, just eating, Frank trying to think of an excuse for leaving the table early so that he can indulge on a little bit of doing absolutely nothing at all in his room. The appeal to that is that doing nothing means he gets to be by himself rather than explain himself to his mother.

“So tell me what happened then. Go on.”

Frank groans outwardly, “I pissed off a teacher who didn’t respect the fact that I can’t fucking see where I’m going. Then I may or may not have threatened to creep in the girls bathroom, because, strangest thing, when no one knows you, they have a hard time understanding how sick and demented your sense of humor is.”

“You’ve got to stop speaking back to your teachers,” his mother says, shaking her head at him.

“Oh come on! How am I expected to treat people with the respect that they’re not giving to me? I’m not going to be a ray of sunshine to people who are being assholes!”

“Language,” his mother says.

“Everyone is the language dictator today. You know I can’t swear on my bus? What a dumb rule. Did it ever occur to the bus driver that we’re fucking teenagers? Swearing is in my bones.”

“So is the knack for getting yourself into trouble.”

Frank shrugs, “I see the world very transparently. Well... I mean, I guess I actually see the world very differently than that, but for the purposes of my metaphor, assume I can see. If people are going to be rude to me, I am not going to be nice back. I’m not exactly going to set their car on fire, but I’m not going to write them a poem either.”

“Okay Frank,” his mom says, sounding annoyed with him already, “how many other people did you manage to anger today?”

“To be honest, I’m not positive. I think, like, maybe seven or eight, but it could be more. I really pissed off the captain of the football team, and I believe the rest of his team was at the table, so I probably made them all angry at me too. Why? Are you proud of my social inadequacies?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Good.”

“Well how about friends? Did you make any friends?” She asks, which is a morosely cliché question that makes Frank groan again.

“I don’t make _friends_. I meet people whose toes I don’t want to break individually. Other people are on my toe breaking list,” Frank says.

“So did you meet anyone who’s feet you’re not avid on violating?”

“I guess the secretary was okay. Wouldn’t sacrifice her first in a zombie apocalypse at least. These other two guys were fine too. Maybe. We’ll see.”

“Tell me about them then?” His mom asks, “You need some friends. Or whatever you want to call them. People who you’ll associate with who aren’t seventy year old women working in an office.”

“They are uninteresting at best,” Frank says critically.

“You can say more than that I’m sure.”

“One of them probably has intensely strong bones since he drank two servings of milk in under twenty minutes. The other one was short. And when I say short, I need you to realize the dude was shorter than I am, so he must have been a foot and a half tall.”

His mother sighs, “Those aren’t traits about a personality. Those are observations.”

“Well what do you want from me? One of them had nice eyes? I don’t know what they look like, I can’t see them!”

“There’s more to a person than what they look like.”

“True. There’s the level of intensity of their douchiness, there’s capability of quoting obscure lyrics from Disney songs, and then, you can’t forget about the way they take their coffee. People who put in too much sugar are not to be trusted.”

Frank's mother chuckles and shakes her head, "I can never completely understand why you have to go on and on about every little thing Frank. I put up with it because sometimes it's adorning."

"Well I'm glad I can make you love me more. I'll be here for the rest of your life."

"And I'll be here for most of yours so I'm going to need you to stop making things so difficult with that mouth of yours."

"I'm going to need you to realize I'm not giving anyone respect who doesn't respect me. I thought we went over this already."

"Frank Anthony!"

"What!"

"No more bad mouthing teachers. Do you understand me?"

"Yes mother. I understand completely that it's okay for people to disrespect me and still earn my respect. That's how you get by with me. I have to respect you even though I shouldn't have to if you can't respect that I deserve respect. Fuck, how many times have I said respect?"

"You have to respect me because I'm your mother. It's just easier if you..."

"Roll over like a dog and do whatever someone says? I'm sorry mother but that's not me." Frank sighs. "Would you have been happier with me if I walked through the classroom and felt up a bunch of people? Would you have been happy then, knowing you would now have a perverted blind son?"

"Goodness, Frank!"

"I don't think you should be upset with me over doing the right thing. She was wrong mom, and if you were a good parent you would be figuring out a way to get me some justice instead of reprimanding me."

Frank's mother gasps and stares at her son in astonishment, "So you don't think I'm a good parent?"

"Mom, that's not what I meant. I just meant..."

"That I'm not a good parent. You meant exactly what you said."

"Mom please," Frank starts.

"Frankie, get ready to take your shower. I think you're done with dinner. I will have a talk with someone at the school if that'll make you happy. What I said still stands though. You will respect your elders because that's how I raised you. You get away with a lot of things that spew out of your mouth because you are blind. People pity you and I know you hate that, but that’s how you get by. I know it's a defense mechanism for you. However, you will not use it with people of higher authority. Do you understand me?"

"Yes."

Frank is tired of this back and forth with his mom. He hadn't meant to insult her, but he has a point. It's obvious she doesn't want to hear it though. She can tell him not to get smart all she wants but that doesn't mean it's not going to happen. If he were to keep his mouth closed, Frank would still be the same person he always was, he just wouldn't get into trouble for it. He'd know when enough is enough. That’s no fun though. Frank isn't going to respect anyone who doesn't earn it.

“Then go take a shower,” she says.

Frank wants to counteract with a response about not liking to do what he’s told to, but he has a daily limit for how much he can piss off his mother. Usually he’ll allow himself to go further than he probably should, and right now he’s past that level. If he says more, he’s likely to get himself in real trouble. School is nothing. Getting in trouble at a school is literally an amusement park compared to getting in trouble with your mom. That’s just a death wish.

“Alright,” Frank says, and he walks on down the hall, because he’s not going to be testing those waters until tomorrow. Pissing his mom off resets sometime around midnight and then he’s allowed to be as big of an asshole as he wants. That doesn’t mean it’s a good idea, no definitely not a good idea, but Frank is full of not-so-good ideas. Like his plan to become a professional cake eater. That’s not a good idea, but he sure as hell likes to aim for the stars.

Frank manages to shower by himself, without slipping or falling, which he basically does as a ‘take that, mom.’ He doesn’t say that though. Frank can do things on his own when he’s given the opportunity, he’s just never given the opportunity because no one trusts the blind guy. In some situations that makes sense. Frank totally agrees that he should not become a parking valet. That would not be a good idea. He also would make a bad art critic. He’d have trouble piloting a plane as well. Those are unimportant things though, Frank can do a lot of things of actual importance.

He can annoy people, that’s a checkmark. He’s fairly good at being sassy, which is something he works hard on. Frank likes to imagine that he’s attractive enough to be a model, but that’d be superficial and he’d have to be unnaturally dependent. He’d have to rely on other people telling him that he looks good, and that’s not something he actually wants. Frank’s ego is big enough that he doesn’t need people pampering to it.

Or at least he likes to pretend he’s got a big ego, but really, Frank has no idea. He doesn’t know who he is really. He’s Frank, the annoying guy who makes too many jokes at other people’s expense, and runs his mouth too much. He drives people away, the people who actually try to help him out and be nice to him. He’s a cynic. He’s somewhat of a jerk, but not where it really matters.

If anything, Frank thinks of himself as broken. He can’t see, so he’s already less than everyone else around him. He’s mediocre at math, unexciting at science, average at writing. The only thing he’s really, honestly good at is feeling sorry for himself. As much as he tries to tell himself he could be a rock star, a blind musician who could still dazzle a crowd, that’s not what he really is. He’s a guy to unsure of himself to play an instrument in front of people.

He’s somewhat of a hopeless romantic who is afraid of getting close to people, which kind of negates the whole thing. What good is it to daydream about someone loving you if you refuse to talk to people?

Frank’s been talking to people way more than he’d like. He talked to Patrick and Pete too much. He got too close. That’s not a good idea. Getting close to people is how you allow them to hurt you. It’s how you give them permission to ruin your life. Frank doesn’t mind making enemies, because at least he knows where he stands with them. When he makes an enemy, he knows that he can trust that they’ll be mean to him. With friends it’s not like that at all.

When you make friends it’s kind of like you’re taking off your armor. Flaunting your back for them to stab you in. ‘Friends’ are just people who know all your insecurities, know how to hurt you. They know how to get to you and make you actually hurt. Enemies don’t know the intimate details. That’s why Frank doesn’t mind having enemies. They’re easy. Friends are hard. They avoid you, exclude you, talk about you behind your back, and then eventually they pull a 180 and all of a sudden they’re calling you names to your face. They become your enemies, only that type of enemy is the kind that also knows how to get to you.

No, Frank thinks, as he falls down across his bed. Friends aren’t for him. That’s not what he wants. He wants to see at least 100 feet around him if he can’t actually see. Letting people in is the way he got himself hurt at his old school. He doesn’t trust people as a principle.

Frank reminds himself of that guy he met at the mall the other day. As much as it pains him to think it, Frank liked him. He did. He couldn’t see him, but he felt like he could. Like that Gerard guy was genuine. That’s what Frank thought of him, if not anything else. Gerard made himself feel real. It’s not that Patrick and Pete didn’t do the same, but there was something different about Gerard. The fact that he let Frank call him comic boy, or maybe the way he was so into Frank’s natural cynicism. Frank doesn’t know precisely, but he’s going to have to avoid Gerard if he actually started to like him.

Frank will not associate with anyone enough to like them. That’s not okay. He doesn’t want anyone to think they can call him a friend, and he doesn’t want to call anyone a friend.

Frank may not want to break Gerard’s toes one by one to watch him suffer, but that doesn’t mean he likes him either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do the thing with the commenting please, that would be nice.


	9. A Barren Field Frozen With Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, lots of stuff happens. Meet Mikey and Brendon, most importantly.

Now Frank’s accustomed to being on a person’s bad side, but never has he encountered it as quickly as with that kid Blake. He’s not sure if ‘bad side’ is even the right term. The way Blake treats Frank in the halls of the school the very next day is almost like Frank broke into his house late at night and murdered Blake’s family. That’s how Blake is treating him anyway. If not for the fact that Patrick is by his side for most of the morning, Frank would probably have had his head stuffed in a toilet.

Evidently the snow decided not to start falling last night, but actually during Frank’s lunch period. Given the plethora of conversations he overheard with ‘dude, look it’s snowing outside,’ Frank has gathered that it’s snowing outside, dude.

“So I hear that it’s snowing,” Frank says at lunch. He’s found himself sitting across from Pete again with Patrick on his right. They decided to sit on the other side of the cafeteria today though because apparently Blake is on the murder path. Pete is somewhat of an acquaintance of Blake, neither friend nor foe, while Patrick is someone who has repeatedly been shoved into lockers by the guy. Frank’s still trying to understand the dynamics. How can a popular kid be friends with an unpopular kid? Frank’s old school was not nearly that convoluted and complex. It was dog eat dog. Actually it was ‘gosh Becky, I can’t believe you’re eating yogurt with fat in it’ versus ‘my nonfat yogurt makes me better than you.’ Frank’s old school was weird.

Frank is just crawling along through the day at a sloths pace. Tuesday’s are always longer than Monday’s Frank has decided. On Monday, the weight of your weekend still has a bit of a hold on you and you slump to class with a bit of a lull, but on Tuesday, it’s sunk in that you still have four days left of the week, and it makes you want to shove a pencil in your eye. That wouldn’t do as much to Frank as it would to other people, but he still rolls a number two pencil around in his hand wishing someone would stab him with it.

Blake has a lot of classes with Frank though. Frank has a grand total of six periods in one day, with two of them interchanging every other day, and he has four of those periods with Blake. He only has three with Patrick, and one with Pete, so if Frank wanted body guards, that hope was shattered.

Frank’s never liked gym before, but he especially hates it here at this school. Mainly because one of the four classes he has with Blake is gym. Though the one good thing about it is that Frank has gym as his last period.

Before the period even starts he can tell it’s not going to be a good one by the way the teacher treats him. It’s a man, judging by how bored his voice sounds, he’s fairly old, and Frank doesn’t get along very well with the older generations. Mostly it’s due to his attitude getting him into trouble.

When Frank shows up, he literally hears his gym teacher sigh loudly, and Frank practically sees the thought bubble forming above this man’s head reading, ‘oh great, I got a blind kid.’

“Do you have your gym clothes?” the teacher asks Frank before he says anything else. Frank decides that that’s the only form of greeting this curmudgeonly old man is capable of.

“It’s only my second day.”

“A simple ‘no’ would suffice.”

“Then no,” Frank says.

“Fine, but you need to bring gym clothes your next day,” the teacher says gruffly, telling Frank that it’s not fine at all. Gym is, at least, one of the classes he only has every other day so at least he doesn’t have to go through the hell of being behind everyone else every day. At least not in this one class, that’ll still be true of everything in his entire life, especially school.

Actually though, the rest of the period passes by pretty uneventfully. Frank doesn’t have to do much of anything, because it’s a hazard to allow the blind kid to play basketball. Frank’s probably not tall enough to be able to throw a ball into the hoop anyway. He sits out for most of the period, receiving snarky comments from Blake every time that he passes Frank’s bench.

The class is indoors thankfully, because it’s still snowing outside. All this means to Frank is that his mom is probably going to be waiting for him outside the bus stop when he gets home which isn’t going to be demeaning _at all_.

Eventually, even though it feels like a century, the class finally ends, and Frank is given permission to leave. He decides not to go into the boy’s locker room to wait for the final bell to ring, because, if it smells like dirty socks in the hallway across the entire school, he does not want to smell that at the source. Instead Frank just waits outside the double doors of the gym and wonders when the bell is actually going to ring.

He realizes though that he has no idea which way to go to get to his locker, because this is his first time on this side of the school, and he groans.

“Excuse me?” Frank asks around, not knowing if someone is near him or not.

“What?” a voice replies, that Frank isn’t familiar with, but it’s a girls.

“I don’t, uh, know which way to go to get to my locker,” Frank says.

The girl asks him what his locker number is, but it seems she’s not too sure either. She does at least try to help him which Frank hadn’t exactly expected, as she tells him where she thinks his locker is. It’s a big school though, and it’s not like he expected her to memorize the placement of every locker.

When the bell finally rings, Frank makes his way off in the direction she told him to go, while she goes the other way, so he has no one to rely on where he’s going. Frank walks behind his cane, searching for someone who he might accidentally hit with it. He whacks several pairs of feet as he ventures down the hall, but at least he doesn’t trip himself up. That’s all that really matters to him.

A minute later though, Frank’s come to the conclusion that he doesn’t know where he’s going. He doesn’t know where to find Patrick either, so he just tests out the nature of the people around him and asks.

Frank’s in the middle of a hallway with students busying themselves with packing their backpacks up to go home. He asks around for someone to help him. Eventually he’s pointed the right way and makes it there only because of the fact that it’s not that far away.

Finding his specific locker is a bit of a challenge, but he does so. Then Frank messes with it for about five minutes, and hears kids walking around him to get out of school. This is taking too long. He doesn’t know how to get the locker door open though, because he can’t see the numbers. Frank feels along the lock spindle, but the numbers aren’t standing out well enough for him to tell what they are. Frank could really use someone with eyes right about now.

“Hey Frank,” a voice says behind him, and Frank tenses up slightly because he recognizes Blake’s voice.

“Yes?” Frank asks, “How may I help you?”

“Having trouble getting your locker open?” he asks.

“Not that it concerns you any, but yes,” Frank says, “That may be in part because I can’t see.”

“Poor guy,” Blake says with such sugared over distaste it makes Frank want to puke.

“What do you want?”

“Do you need help getting your locker open?” Blake asks.

“From you? No. I doubt you’d help me anyway.”

“You’re right. I wouldn’t help you.”

“Yeah whatever,” Frank says, and he’s getting ready to dent the locker with his fist. Frank is so annoyed with it that he just gives up entirely and starts to walk away from his locker and away from Blake.

The halls are fairly clear now, so Frank has to hurry if he’s going to make it to his bus. Frank has some homework in his locker, but it’s only his second day, so it’s really not that big of a deal if he neglects to do it. There are some liberties a blind kid is granted, and deadlines are usually a little less strict for him.

“Uh, Frank,” Blake says, “you’re going the wrong way.”

Frank curses himself and turns around, which is unfortunately past the Blake kid that he wants to punch in the face so much. Frank makes sure to clear himself a few feet between himself and Blake so that he doesn’t get tripped by him. Blake chuckles at him, and Frank feels his eyes glaring at the back of his head.

About a minute later, Frank is almost completely certain that Blake is a bigger dick than Frank was bargaining for. Frank ends up on the completely wrong side of the school, and that’s when it hits him that he was not going the wrong way at all. He was going the correct way until Blake told him he was wrong. Frank was gullible. It was a moment of weakness. 

Frank’s also aware of the fact that there are people following him. One of them he’s assuming is Blake, and there’s at least two more people, probably fellow football players. Frank is in some deep shit.

“Okay, very funny guys, you’ve led the blind guy astray, would you mind telling me which way I’m actually supposed to go now?” Frank asks, facing his stalkers.

“Why should we do that?” Blake asks.

“Because I do have places to be,” Frank lies.

The next thing he knows he’s being pushed. Frank doesn’t land on the floor as he’d expected, and he doesn’t hit a wall either. He feels a wall slam into his back, but then the wall moves. Frank figures out that it’s a door only just in time to stop himself from falling flat on his face.

There’s the sound of laughing, while Frank tries to figure out why it’s so cold all of a sudden. He’s outside. That’s why it’s so cold. Frank is outside, and there really is snow everywhere. Frank grips his cane tighter and reaches around for the door, but he’s pushed back again. Frank is ushered even further outside. He’s far away from the sanctuary of the indoors and now he’s outside and it’s really cold.

“What’s the point of all of this?” Frank questions.

“Proving a point,” Blake says.

“And that point would be?”

“That the blind kid with a big mouth should really tread carefully,” Blake responds.

Frank’s had the nightmare before about losing his cane. He’s had that nightmare several times in several different ways, but they all reiterate the same basic point. Frank is afraid of not having his cane. That’s one of his all-time biggest fears.

He’s not prepared for it when the cane is pulled out of his hand with so much strength that he can’t even put up a fight. The next thing Frank knows is that he’s standing in the middle of what feels like a field, and he’s balancing precariously on some ice, _without his cane_. 

Being without it honestly feels like he’s naked. Like he’s missing the only thing in the entire world that he needs. Frank is a crippled wreck without the long piece of metal, and his heart starts racing at the thought that he doesn’t have a grasp on it.

“Can I have that back?” Frank asks, “I really need it.”

“Oh do you now,” Blake asks.

“Yes.”

“Then nah,” Blake says.

“Really?” Frank says, “I mean, you’ve proved your point, okay? I have a big mouth, I already knew that. What does taking my cane prove?”

“That I am far superior.”

“You tell yourself that all you want,” Frank says, which is not the smartest thing to do in his precarious position. He’s pushed further back, with his cane hitting him in the chest. Frank can’t stop himself from falling to the ground, skinning his elbow painfully. Frank scrambles back onto his feet hurriedly, mostly to regain some of his pride, but Blake and his cohorts start laughing again.

Frank isn’t certain what the layout of the school is like, but he thinks that the busses are on the other side of the school, and he thinks he’s standing on the football field. The school completely blocks the busses though, so he’s pretty much on his own.

“Okay guys we’ve had our fun, can you just give me my cane back please?” Frank asks, trying to sound unamused, but he’s actually really scared. He doesn’t know where on earth the school is from here, and he doesn’t know where the road is. All he knows is that he’s in the middle of a field and it’s freezing, so there’s probably ice everywhere.

“No I think we’ll just be heading off,” Blake says.

“Can I have my cane back then?”

“Nah I think I’ll keep it,” he answers and the other guys chuckle.

“Why do you need a cane?” Frank answers and he curses to himself that he sounds scared.

“To do this, mainly,” the guy says and Frank feels something hit him hard around the ankles, making him fall to the ground painfully.

“That was not very polite,” Frank says, voice trembling slightly because he’s fairly sure he just twisted his ankle.

“Oh well,” Blake’s voice says and it sounds like he’s walking away. Frank panics slightly, because Blake really does still have his cane.

“I can’t see without my cane!” Frank screeches.

“I know.”

“But-”

“Bye Frank.”

“Wait,” Frank calls, but there’s the sound of feet crunching in snow so he knows that they really are walking away, and he feels himself get really desperate. “Please?”

When the only response he hears is a snicker, he knows that he really is on his own, and he can’t do a thing about it. Nothing at all. His stomach clenches with fear that he’s been left all alone.

Frank stays on the ground, completely still for several long minutes. He just lets the snow soak into his jeans making them chafe uncomfortably. Frank doesn’t know if Blake is still watching him, waiting for Frank to make an idiot of himself or not, so he’s just going to kneel on the ground for a little while longer.

Frank’s trying to remember where his phone is, and then curses to himself that he left it in his locker with his backpack. He hadn’t anticipated that he’d get stuck out here though, so he didn’t think to bring it with him, and he couldn’t get his damn locker open anyway. Now he’s regretting that decision.

After about five minutes, Frank decides to test the ground around him to see if he can make it out of this field. Twenty seconds later, after falling flat onto his ass, he realizes that he really cannot. He’d accidently put his foot right on top of a particularly slippery patch of ice and this sent him sprawling against the frozen grass.

Frank feels out around him, hoping that maybe he can crawl away from here, but he’s not sure where he’s supposed to go. He hasn’t a clue which way is the right way to go, because falling left him disorientated. Very few sounds are reaching his ears because the wind has started to pick up, but it’s been a while. Frank’s sure the busses have probably left, or are leaving right now. There’s literally no chance he’s going to be able to make it to his own bus in time at this point.

He wishes, despite the voice in his head telling him not to, that Patrick were here. He wishes that Patrick had been with him when Blake had ambushed him, and he wishes that he’d never listened to a word Blake had said. It’s too late to wish that though, Patrick has no idea where he is right now.

Frank starts to crawl, but that idea is dead in the water when his fingers are ungloved and the ground is freezing. Frank’s sure it has to be in the single digits outside right now. When on earth did it get to be that cold?

Frank’s bad at keeping track of time in the best of situations, so he’s certainly wretched at it in the worst ones. He just has to sit and wait for something to happen, for some idea to strike him. Time starts passing though, and he knows it’s been a while. Frank thinks he’s been lying on this field for at least an hour. It could be more, but he’s fairly sure that it has to have been that long at the very least. Maybe it’s been two hours he doesn’t know for sure.

His teeth are starting to clatter together almost without break, so it sounds more like one solid noise rather than the buildup of his teeth meeting together individually. 

It’s freezing, and that’s all Frank knows right now. It’s freezing and he’s pretty sure that it’s getting dark outside. No one knows he’s here, and no one cares probably. He wants to just get up and find someone’s help, but where can he go without risking getting more injured? Why did he leave his phone in his locker? His mom will get home from work soon though and realize he’s not there.

Maybe he should start crawling again and look for help. No that’s not a smart idea he doesn’t have gloves and his hands will freeze. This is miserable. It’s his second day at school and he’s stranded in the middle of a football field surrounded with snow and ice. This is such a stupid predicament. He shouldn’t be in this mess. If he weren’t blind, none of this shit would have happened to him.

One hour turns into two, and it’s getting ridiculous. Sure it’s cold and people want to get home, but shouldn’t someone have noticed him here by now?

One of the perks of being blind is that your other senses are heightened, and this is when Frank hears footsteps, kind of faraway but they’re close enough.

Frank calms his teeth to stop clattering and clears his throat so it won’t be scratchy, “hello? Is there someone there, I need help!”

He feels stupid. He needs help to get out of a field. How belittling is that, but he has no choice at this point. He needs someone to help him.

“What? Who’s that?” Someone, a deep voice belonging to a male, calls back.

“My name is Frank, and I need help, please, just... please!” he says trying not to beg.

He hears crunching snow, from what is distinctly two sets of feet, and he turns his head, but he can’t really tell which direction the feet are coming from.

“What’s wrong, dude?” The voice of the second person, also a guy, says. His voice is higher pitched than the others’.

Frank can tell that they’re somewhat close and turns in the direction the voice came from. They’re probably a few feet away, and he probably looks like such an idiot curled into a ball in the snow.

“Some guy, uh,” how does he phrase this? “I can’t see, because I’m, uh, and someone took my cane and I can’t... I can’t- and I’m just really scared.”

“Oh jeez,” the deeper voice says and he hears him walk closer, “here I’ll help you up.”

Frank thanks his luck that at least this guy isn’t going to laugh and walk away. He feels someone’s hand on his shoulder and raises his own hand to find the guy. A gloved hand grabs ahold of his, and he’s pulled up onto his feet by the guy, but he’s hesitant to let go because he doesn’t want to fall.

“Frank, was it?” The guy asks, and the sound of footsteps lets him know that the other person approached him.

“Yes, I’m Frank,” he says, and his voice is quivering because he either needs to cry or he’s just really cold, or both.

“Oh god you must be freezing,” he hears the ruffling of clothes and then someone puts a jacket on his shoulder, “I’m Brendon, and this is Mikey.”

The other guy, Mikey, says hello to Frank. Frank doesn’t say anything, but pulls the jacket he’s just been given closer around himself, because he is positively glacial.

“So what did you say happened?” Mikey asks.

“Some guy pushed me out here into the middle of this field after school ended and then took my cane, and ran away with it.”

“You’ve been out here for _hours_?” Brendon asks, and Frank nods, “okay, we’ll get you out of here then.”

“Thank you,” Frank says, and he still hasn’t let go of Brendon, but he doesn’t feel all that guilty about that.

The boys each take one of his arms and very slowly guide him off the field and onto the sidewalk which is just as slippery.

“Frank, do you need me to drive you home?” Brendon asks.

“Um, I left my phone in my locker. I should call my mom to come get me.”

“Sorry dude, the school is locked,” Mikey says, “we can’t get back in.”

Frank sighs and feels awful now.

“It’s no problem Frank, I’m not going to just leave you out here without help,” Brendon says.

There’s a long moment of Frank awkwardly trying to shoo them away, because he wants to be able to do things by himself, combatted with the argument, that he really can’t do anything. They’re not wrong, and Frank knows that, but his pride is something to be reckoned with. He’d rather be trapped here all day then get help from two people he doesn’t know, nor want to know.

They did help him though.

Eventually, Frank’s stubbornness loses to logic. He just lets the other two do what they think is best, considering they now have to deal with the weight of a blind guy who doesn’t know his way out of a parking lot. Brendon decides to go get his car and pull up to the curb so that Frank doesn’t need to walk through the booby trap of a parking lot, so he’s left standing awkwardly with Mikey.

“Are you new?” Mikey asks, as they wait.

“Yeah, yesterday was my first day,” Frank answers, and he looks at the spot where he hopes Mikey is.

“Oh okay. You’re already getting bullied on your second day?”

Frank sighs, “I’m kind of an asshole sometimes.”

Mikey laughs next to him, and Frank smiles slightly.

“It’s nice that you can admit to it,” Mikey answers, which reminds him a bit of the conversation he’d had with Gerard the other day.

“So why are you so late leaving anyway?” Frank asks.

Mikey makes a sound, and says jokingly, “definitely not detention or anything like that. I’ve never been in trouble. Not ever.”

“What did you do?” Frank asks.

“Not important.”

He hears a car pull up a few moments later, and allows himself to be ushered into the backseat by Mikey, and he’s just really hoping that these two guys don’t decide to rape or kill him, because that would be the opposite of helpful.

“Hey, um, thank you so much for helping me out,” Frank says, after he’s inside, where there is a refreshing amount of heat.

“Oh god don’t worry,” Brendon says, “I’m glad we found you when we did otherwise you could’ve gotten frostbite or something. And I promise not to murder you and throw you off a bridge or something, by the way.”

“That’s somewhat reassuring.”

“Besides,” Brendon says, “Mikey’s far more murderous than I’ve ever been.”

“How were you going to get home if you’re mom wasn’t going to pick you up anyway?” Mikey asks after Frank relays his address to them.

“I ride the bus and find my own way home from there. I’m blind, but I’m not an idiot, and I don’t need other peoples help,” Frank answers.

“Well that’s bullshit,” Brendon says, “Mikey and I drive every day, I could pick you up.”

“No don’t go to the trouble, you barely know me and-”

“Hey, I don’t like it when people get picked on,” Brendon says, “and picking on a blind guy who can’t do anything is even worse.”

“No, don’t give me special treatment just because I’m blind. It’s patronizing.”

“Fine then I’ll give you special treatment because I’m your friend,” Brendon answers. Frank doesn’t know what to say at that. He wasn’t aware he and Brendon were friends, but apparently it’s been decided. The thing is that his stance on friends can’t be changed, not even with a gesture as nice as this.

“I don’t have friends,” Frank states, “not because I’m incapable of making them, but because I don’t want them. I don’t want friends.”

“Well why not?”

“Because I’m blind, and it’s a million times harder to check behind you to see if someone’s about to stab you in the back, when you can’t actually see who’s there.”

"Well like I said, Mikey's the murderous one. I promise I would never do that but I can't speak for Mikey."

"Hey, I'll only stab him if he truly deserves it. I think you'll be okay though, since I haven't stabbed Brendon or my brother."

Frank laughs and shakes his head. He likes that they can joke about backstabbing in such a way. It makes him feel comfortable knowing he isn't the only person with a somewhat sick sense of humor.

"You'll want to stab me in no time."

"You're still here."

"Had you met me under different circumstances it probably would've been you two who left me there," Frank says with a hint of sadness in his voice. Frank knows he’s an asshole, and, at the end of the day, he probably did deserve to be messed with. He doesn't think he deserved what Blake did though. Maybe he should've listened to Pete and Patrick.

"We would never do that. That was just cruel."

"Yeah, we would've at least left you with your cane. Or a road map," Mikey adds and they chuckle together.

"Well that makes me feel better," Frank says with sarcasm.

"We're just dicking around."

"I know."

The rest of the ride to his house is spent in a somewhat comfortable silence. As they pull up Frank's heart begin to pound a little faster. He knows his mother will not be happy about this at all. Frank has a spare cane so she won't have to worry about replacing it yet, but he knows that will be the least of her worries.

Frank listens as Mikey shuffles out of the car, he know it’s Mikey because the sound was coming from his left side, nearer to him. Next thing he knows, the car door is being opened and he’s being guided out of the seat. Frank lets himself be held by the two boys and walked slowly up the pathway. Before they get far he hears the door to his house being opened.

"Frankie! Oh my God Frankie!"

Frank's mother rushes as much as the snow and ice covered ground will let her over to Frank. She pulls him into a tight hug and holds him there for a long time.

"I was so afraid. I went to the school to find you and you weren't there! They told me that you had left with everyone else, and I assured them that you did not come home on that bus. I went to wait for you there because I knew the snow had frozen over even more than this morning. What happened to you? Where are your things?"

Frank lets his mother go and shrugs. He’d known this was coming, and now he has to deal with the fact that she’s going to baby him like there’s no tomorrow.

"I got in trouble with the wrong people today and they decided to teach me a lesson. Let me tell you... lesson learned," Frank tries to let out a lighthearted chuckle but he knows he isn't fooling anyone; not even himself.

"Frankie..."

"I'm okay mom. Mikey and Brendon found me and gave me a ride home. I’d tell you which is which but honestly, arms feel pretty much the same when you’ve just met a guy."

"You're not okay. None of this is okay! You were stranded for hours Frankie. How am I supposed to be comfortable with you going to school when shit like this happens?" Frank's mother’s voice shakes as she speaks and she hugs him again. "I am so glad you're okay. I don't know what I would've done if this had turned out otherwise."

Frank's mother pulls back and wraps her arm around Frank's waist, "Come on... let's get you inside. It's freezing out here. You two come along too."

Frank is really shocked because his mother is never very nice to strangers. He guesses it’s in part because of the fact that they helped her only son in a time of need.

“No it’s fine, we should really get going,” Brendon says, and Frank doesn’t know how he feels about the fact that the two guys he just met have already met his overbearing mother. Usually you wait until you get to know a person before you introduce them to your parents.

“I insist. Unless you two have somewhere else to be. I know how worried I was that my boy was so late coming home,” Frank’s mother says, and he really hates how he can already feel himself being shoved into a box for the rest of his life to protect him from other people.

“Well, we-” Mikey starts.

“I completely forgot to ask you your names,” Frank’s mother interrupts.

After hearing their voices, Frank can pinpoint who’s on which side of him, and says to his mother, “that’s Brendon, that one’s Mikey.”

“Please boys, I really would ask you to come inside. I want to know what happened. _In detail_ ,” she says, directing the last two words to Frank who would probably brush over most of the actual story if she hadn’t said that. “And it’s too cold outside for you two to be out here.”

“You kidding?” Frank asks, “This is short shorts weather.”

“It’s ten degrees!”

“Boiling,” Frank says.

“That would be Celsius, Frank,” his mother says, and then he’s being pulled inside. Frank wants to resist, but he really had not noticed how cold it was until he’s inside where it’s amazingly warm. He doesn’t feel like his shoulder is going to fall out of its socket anymore. The cold got to feeling pretty normal, even in the evidently broken heating of the car. He’s assuming it’s Brendon’s car, as Brendon was the one driving, but he’s not certain.

From the footsteps he hears behind him, hesitant but there nonetheless, he’s aware of Mikey and Brendon uncomfortably walking forward slightly. This isn’t going to be awkward at all.

“Frank, from the beginning,” his mother says, and every person alive knows that tone. It’s the take-no-shit tone that could send a mass murderer into a corner in a fetal position.

“The beginning? Whoa, okay, well, as far as I know, that would have been the big bang-”

“Frank,” his mom says, and he’s not going to test that any further.

“Alright so yesterday I totally did not mouth off at a teacher, right? You were called about it, sorry about that, but it happened. And anyway so I told the teacher I’m blind, I can’t exactly find an empty seat, and I got sent to the office, because apparently being right makes you wrong. Go figure? But I was pissed so I may or may not have made a remark about how I was going to wonder off into the girl’s locker room, and that’s not a good thing to say when you’re new so the teacher told this guy, Blake, to walk me there. I picked on him a little bit, what can I say. You’ve met me, I’m a complete dick. Said some things, that’s not important, but anyway, at lunch yesterday I heard him talking a little more. He couldn’t score with a chick, because his game was off by a long shot, so I called him out for being a misogynistic asshole, and that pissed him off. Bad news though, cause who did I piss off? Captain of the football team. Karma’s a bitch, amiright? Must have been the repentance for all those free cookies I mooched off of the dinner ladies at my old school. Not the point though. Point is, I pissed off a football jock. Football jocks have posse’s and they may not be able to hold an intelligent conversation, but they sure as hell can hold a grudge. So long story short I was tricked into the middle of a football field where I was then shoved to the ground and someone stole my cane.”

Frank takes a long time to breathe after he gets through the events, but he’s content with himself that he conveyed the story well enough for his mother’s liking.

“You told me none of this about the football person,” his mother says, and Frank scoffs. Really, _that’s_ what she’s focused on? Frank not telling her? Not the part where he was stranded in a field?

“Well I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Frank, you were in the middle of a field! With ice! And you don’t know anyone here! And it’s getting late. Someone could have hurt you!”

“Were you not paying attention to my story? Someone _did_ hurt me.”

“You know what I mean,” his mother replies.

“Oh please. What kind of mugger could hurt me more than I’ve already been hurt, mother? My history with being mugged isn’t full of rainbows, but it can’t exactly get worse. What are they going to take next? My ears? My tongue? You know, come to think of it, stealing my tongue might not be a bad idea, have you seen the mouth on me? I want to punch _myself_ in the face half the time. Trouble is, I don’t want to damage such a beautiful face.”

Brendon snorts behind him, and Frank turns around to look in his general direction with a smirk. He kind of forgot about the two people’s existence behind him, but they’re still there, and god is that awkward as hell. He has two people who he’d never met before just a few minutes ago, who practically just saved his life, in his home with his mother. 

This is a nightmare Frank had once, he’s sure of it. Only that nightmare ended with a large man holding an ax bursting into the room and chopping everyone to pieces. To be honest, an ax is not the most effective weapon for chopping people up, if the murderer wanted to make quick work of them, he’d have gotten a saw or something. Though that’s a bit too overdone. Frank can’t control his subconscious though. That is evident by the many dreams he’s had of ice fishing in an active volcano.

“And you two, how do you two play in?” his mother asks, assumingly looking at Brendon and Mikey behind him.

“Careful,” Frank says, “she was a lawyer in another life. Treat this like you’re wanted for a homicide and you’re giving a statement to the cops.”

“I-”

“Frank!”

“I must speak the truth when it is asked upon me!” Frank says defensively.

Brendon stutters before Mikey, who’s calmer it seems than Brendon is, communicates the events to Frank’s mother. It’s pretty basic, not as sarcastic as Frank’s version, but it gets the point across that they’d never met Frank before they found him so helpless in the middle of a field. 

Frank's mother nods and sighs. She doesn't know what she is going to do with Frank. On one hand she wants him to be independent so that when she leaves this earth she doesn't have to worry wherever she may go. Considering he may not have someone when she leaves, and what if she goes suddenly, he'll have to know how to do things and get around. On the other hand she just wants to do everything for him and nurture him like an over caring mother would.

Can anyone really blame her? She has an eighteen year old blind son that bad things keep happening to. She should be used to it by now right? Wrong. No one will ever get used to their child being hurt unless they're careless horrible beings. You wouldn't even call them parents, because parents would never act that way to their children.

"Thank you," Frank's mother speaks to the boys.

"It was really not a problem at all. We're just glad we decided to go that way instead of the long way around to get to the car," Mikey speaks.

"Yeah, I'm sorry we didn't find you sooner," Brendon intervenes.

"Hey, it wasn't your task for the day. I don't care when the fuck I was found as long as I was found at all."

"Will you watch that mouth of yours now?" his mother snaps.

"I think you are very well aware that I am incapable of watching anything," Frank snarls to his mother.

"I guess that's a no," Frank's mother sighs and places her hands on her hips. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Love me the same way you always have. You're definitely not going to start treating me like a child."

Brendon and Mikey look at his mother and chuckles as she shakes her head, "I know exactly what I'm going to do."

"What?" Frank inquires.

"Buy you a muzzle."

“I'm not some kind of animal mother! I mean, seriously, I haven't even encountered sexual activities yet-”

"Frank!" his mom stops him. Brendon and Mikey burst out laughing as Frank just smirks in his mother's direction.

“Is that not something you say to your mother?”

“No, not really,” Brendon says.

“I thought it would be comforting.”

“No you didn’t,” his mother shakes her head.

“No your right. I just thought it would make the tension more palpable. This room isn’t nearly uncomfortable enough. I don’t want it just to be palpable, I want to be slapped in the face with the awkward.”

“No, it's not palpable. You literally can't touch it. As MC Hammer said in his hit song,” Brendon says.

“Did you just-”

“I may have,” Brendon confirms.

“Nice,” Frank nods.

“I’m kind of disappointed in myself for that one, honestly.”

“You should be,” Mikey says.

“Well it’s good that you found people with such twisted senses of humor as you, Frank,” Frank’s mother says.

“Oh it’s not quite as sick as mine yet. No jokes about blindness or being satanic yet.”

“Is that a requirement?” Mikey asks.

“Yes.”

“Frank, don’t you think your friends should be going?” his mother asks. Frank’s confused, because a moment ago, she was insisting that they them come in and now she’s shooing them away.

“Not friends,” Frank says.

“Frank,” his mother sends him a look that he can’t see, but he feels it.

“No he explained that pretty thoroughly already,” Brendon says.

“Yeah, something about Mikey murdering people,” Frank waves the conversation off, but his mother is glaring at him still, he knows it. “Well I’m not going to call them friends. Mother, we’ve established this. The highest honor I can bestow upon a person is the lack of a desire to chop your toes off. I don’t want to chop either of your toes off. That’s like an ‘I love you’ coming from me.”

“I feel the love,” Mikey says rather monotonously, and given the fact that Frank’s only real superficial judge of character is a voice, it’s rather unhelpful. Everyone judges others superficially to some extent. The way they dress, the price of their clothes, the way they wear their hair, how attractive they are. Those are all rather shallow ways to view a person, but since Frank can’t see any of those things, the only snap judgments he can make about a person without getting to know them is by the sound of their voice. 

Brendon’s got this nice orotund voice, deep and certain. Mikey’s is no less pleasant, but it’s lighter. Somewhat throatier even though Brendon uses more sound behind his own.

The fact that Mikey puts very little emotion into his voice though is bothering Frank. He can’t make any decisions about the guy based off of only that. He already feels like he’s starting to create a picture of Brendon, but with Mikey it’s like he’s run out of paint. To be honest, it kind of intrigues him.

"Okay, my mom is correct. It is getting late. You two should be going. I have to eat and shower and pretend I don't know that my mom is watching me worriedly."

"I will n-" she starts, but Frank holds up a hand to shush his mother.

"Please mom, lying is a sin."

"Don't make me hurt you, boy," she starts.

"Haven't I been hurt enough today?"

"Clearly you haven't," Frank's mom pokes him in his cheek and nods to the other two boys. "I'm sorry you have to witness this."

"Hey, nothing new for me," Mikey answers and heads towards the door with Brendon close behind him.

"See you around, Frank."

"I wish I could say the same," Frank smiles wickedly and the boys just smile back and exit the house.

“Oh by the way Frank,” Brendon starts, “I wasn’t kidding about the driving you to school thing. The bus isn’t the best place in the world.”

“What a nice offer!” Frank mother starts.

“But I’m going to have to turn it down,” Frank says.

“Frank-”

“No,” he says curtly and quiets down to let the two of them leave. 

"It was nice meeting you," Mikey says to Frank’s mother.

"It was nice meeting you boys too. Thank you again for helping Frank. Have a great night," with that Frank's mother closes the door and turns back to Frank. "That was very nice of them. Now you and I are going to have a talk to find out what we can do to prevent this kind of event from ever happening again."

Frank sighs exasperatedly, "You said something about a muzzle."

"Yeah, a muzzle," Frank’s mother guides him down the hallway talking a mile a minute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter, but I hope it was worth it.


	10. We're All Just Losers, But He's A Cooler Loser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete's never met Beyoncé.

“Hey,” Frank says, when he feels Patrick sitting down on the seat next to him. He can tell it’s Patrick because he smells oddly like baked goods. It’s quite nice actually.

“Hey? That’s all I get? A simple hey? Dude, you abandoned me yesterday afternoon,” Patrick says.

“I abandoned you?” Frank asks. “How did I abandon you?”

“Well someone put a kick-me sign on my back and I didn’t even notice it until I got home,” Patrick replies.

“Well I wouldn’t have noticed it,” Frank exasperates, waving his hand in front of his face to convey the fact that he can’t see anything.

“Well, moral support,” Patrick says.

“Your moral must be hella low if you need me to support it.”

“I have no friends.”

“I’m not your friend,” Frank states, putting his back to the bus seat, and crossing his arms.

“You keep saying that, but that’s just what you say. I have a say so too,” Patrick grumbles, “I may not be your friend, but you’re _my_ friend.”

“What? No, you can’t say that. It has to go both ways!”

“Maybe you think so, but not necessarily.”

“I still don’t trust you,” Frank huffs.

“That’s fine. So why weren’t you on the bus yesterday anyway? Did the whole freedom thing not pan out for you?” Patrick questions.

“No, that’s not it. You know that kid, Blake? I pissed him off. Maybe more than was wise.”

“Oh no,” Patrick says knowingly and Frank can feel him shaking his head in disapproval, “so what did the guy do?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Frank says, moving over the replacement cane in his hand unconsciously. He knows it’s the exact same thing, technically it’s the same cane, but it feels different. The handle isn’t as worn as the other one. There’s not as many scratches along it. It’s stiffer when he snaps it together, unlike the old one where the joints had all been bent hundreds of times. This one feels so foreign and every time he thinks about it, his stomach drops a little bit.

The worst part of what happened yesterday was the fact that Frank prides himself, literally, in having too much pride. He’s always had too much pride, and yesterday, he lost a lot of that, which makes him feel uncomfortable in his own skin. He doesn’t want to run into Blake ever again. Not after the fool Blake made of him. It hurts knowing that he can’t do anything to stop himself from running into the guy though. He’ll see him again, and it’s all going to rush back to him.

“Oh,” Patrick says, when Frank doesn’t say anything more, “I’m sorry. I should’ve been there.”

“Well, Patrick, no offense, but what good is a pacifist against a football captain?” Frank asks, and he doesn’t mean to say it as smarmily as it ends up sounding.

“Saying ’no offense’ doesn’t exactly remove the offense in the statement. I guess I don’t mind being called a pacifist though. I hate fighting, so it’s not untrue. People always so ‘no offense’ though right before they’re about to insult you. It’s pointless.”

“I’m not in a good mood,” Frank grumbles in response, and turns to look out the window, which is stupid because he doesn’t see shit.

"I can tell. I still wish I had been there for moral support on your end. Looks like we both failed each other."

"I wouldn't know since I can't look at it at all."

Patrick sighs and slouches in his seat next to Frank. He’s desperately wishing he had been there to help him with whatever happened.

"I'm sorry still."

"Look you couldn't have done anything about it."

"I could've at least been your eyes for you, if nothing else," Patrick states a little too loudly. A few people look in his direction and he whispers a sorry. Apparently everyone is in a bad mood this morning. Also, apparently Patrick says sorry too much.

"How do you know I needed eyes?"

"Because I can see, unlike you. No offense, but I observed that your cane looks new. So what happened to your other one?"

"You clearly don't know what 'I don't want to talk about it' means."

“Okay fine, Frank,” Patrick leaves it at that and Frank thanks whoever the hell is listening to the thoughts of a blind teenage boy, that he does. He doesn't want to get into anymore crap that he just doesn't need at this moment. He doesn't want to upset Patrick, because as much as he doesn't like to admit it, he does need him around. Obviously things aren't going to go well if he can't see and Patrick is his eyes, even though he doesn't like it. It's like Patrick is his mother at school. Looking out for him just enough or when he needs it. Frank surely needed it yesterday.

Frank feels the bus lurch, and by the arising noise and shuffles that fill the bus, he knows that they are finally at school. His stomach drops heavily, he isn't ready to face Blake today or ever. It just so happens that Blake is in his first period class with him. English. Lucky Frank. Frank feels Patrick stand up and he follows his movements. He grabs his book bag and shuffles out of the seat.

Patrick stands closely by Frank as he watches Frank make it down the steps successfully on his own today and smiles. He doesn't say anything though he just follows behind Frank. He places his hand on Frank's shoulder when they reach a large chunk of ice that someone obviously missed when they did the salting.

"There's ice there Frank."

"Don't worry, I'm a pro with that after yesterday."

Patrick raises a brow at Frank, but holds back the urge to ask him what he’s talking about. He knows it has to do with what Blake did to him though, poor kid.

"Just hold onto my shoulder."

Frank doesn't put up much of a fight because even though he tries to hide it, the ice does bother him. Especially because of what Blake and his horrible friends did to him. Frank takes Patrick’s shoulder and walks across the ice slowly.

“Hey Frank,” a voice says once they get across the ice and Frank looks around as a courtesy, though he already knows who it is. He couldn’t mistake Brendon’s voice anywhere, there’s a certain cadence to it, which Frank really likes. 

“Uh oh,” Patrick says quietly when Frank lets go of his shoulder.

“What?” Frank asks.

“What?” Patrick responds.

“Uh,” is all Frank can say but he waits for wherever Brendon is to catch up with him, so that he doesn’t have to yell out into a crowd of people he’s never met.

“Looks like you’re doing better today,” Brendon says to him when he arrives to stand next to Frank.

“Yeah, I guess,” Frank shrugs. He can’t tell if Mikey’s there as well, because there’s a lot of footsteps around him of several different people. 

“Well anything’s better than yesterday.”

“Can you maybe just pretend that never happened? I don’t want to be that kind of loser who’s so hopeless I needed your help.”

Frank’s cane accidentally hits the back of someone’s foot, but he doesn’t care. Brendon is standing to his right, and he’s not sure where the hell Patrick is anymore. He’s not sure much of what’s going on around him, because it’s cold and windy, and his hands are freezing.

“Didn’t mean to bring it up then, sorry,” Brendon says, “we’ll leave it alone.”

“Good, thanks,” Frank says.

“You know we’re not judging you though, right?” a second voice says and Frank figures out where Mikey is. He’s on the other side of Brendon, to Frank’s right.

“You’d better not be or I’ll hurt you,” Frank says.

“Oh okay, so I guess I see what you’re mom meant by twisted sense of humor,” Brendon states.

“I don’t _see_ what she meant,” Frank replies. If Frank were to make himself a résumé, the first skill he’d cite would be his ability to catch any form of the word ‘see’ or ‘look’ without hesitation and make a joke about it. He’s extremely good at it.

Frank can tell that Brendon holds the front door open for him and he steps inside the school to feel himself sigh with the warmth as it encompasses him. It’s not as cold outside as it had been last night, but the heat isn’t unwelcome.

“Patrick?” Frank asks quietly, wondering where the guy is.

“Who?”

“Ugh,” Frank groans, “the fucker ditched me. Not surprising. I think he’s afraid of people. You two probably scared him away. I needed him to help me find my locker though.”

“Oh, no problem, where’s your locker at?” Brendon asks.

“Hell if I know,” Frank says, and then reaches into his pocket for where he put his schedule. He hands it over to Brendon, or where he thinks Brendon is, and feels it taken out of his hand.

“Oh, this is actually really near me and Mikey’s lockers,” Brendon says, “I’ll take you there.”

“Great. Lead the way!” Frank says loudly and obnoxiously. 

Brendon does in fact lead the way, but Mikey doesn’t stay to help him get into his locker. Apparently opening a locker isn’t something he needs to be there for, and Frank doesn’t really care. Mikey doesn’t talk much. Brendon talks too much. They balance each other out.

The first half of Franks day does go pretty smoothly actually. He doesn’t seem to run into Blake even though he’s aware that the guy is staring into the back of his head all through his first and second periods. He doesn’t have to talk to the guy though, and that’s the good thing. He makes it to his third period okay too, and that’s when he has a class with Pete so he’s safe there.

Frank doesn’t really have any emotions about his day at all until lunch. It’s not like he’s expecting to do anything, but he did literally double his quota of acquaintances yesterday.

“Frank,” Patrick’s voice calls and then catches up to him. Frank’s standing at his locker, and had actually been waiting for Patrick to show up ever since Pete left him to put his books away at the end of third period a few minutes ago.

“Why did you ditch me earlier?” Frank asks, “If I keep having to give my locker combo away, someone’s going to rob me blind. _See_ what I did there? Oh my, I’m so fucking whimsical.”

“Sorry,” Patrick says with a shrug, “I, uh, I’m not a people person.”

“Well you talk to me,” Frank says.

“Uh, I don’t mean this in a mean way or anything, Frank, but I don’t find you all that intimidating. Like most people kick me and taunt me and throw me away, but I don’t think of you as someone who would do that. Partly because I get the feeling that that’s happened to you.”

“Where are we going?” Frank asks when he doesn’t know where the hell he is. 

“To the lunchroom, Frank,” Patrick says, and Frank nods, continuing to follow where Patrick is leading him. About five minutes later he has a tray of food that he doesn’t particularly want to eat, because, to quote Patrick, the food was ‘extra inedible looking today.’ Frank decides he’s just going to throw most of it out and eat the chips he bought.

“Frank,” Brendon’s voice says, and Frank is really starting to wonder when so many people started to address him. No one’s supposed to talk to him, by design. That’s exactly _not_ what he wants.

“Oh god,” Patrick says.

“Calm your tits boy, they’re not going to eat you,” Frank says, and then he tells Patrick to lead him to wherever Brendon’s voice was coming from. The cafeteria is loud though, and he can’t tell where Brendon is, so yeah, he just sassed a guy and then asked for his help.

“Here?” Frank asks.

“Uh,” Patrick responds, “I think I’ll sit somewhere el-”

Patrick starts, but Frank sits down, and then grabs Patrick’s sleeve and pulls him into the spot next to him. 

“Oh so _this_ is Patrick,” Brendon says.

“No this is one of the other prototypes in my many surplus of friends,” Frank says sarcastically. 

“So... Patrick?” Brendon asks, because apparently the sarcasm was lost between Frank’s mouth and Brendon’s ears.

“Yeah, that’s Patrick,” Frank says, shaking his head. He grabs his chips and pulls them open, without giving Patrick a proper introduction.

“Frank?” Patrick whispers.

“Oh, I forgot,” Frank says, even though he didn’t forget anything, he’s just antisocial, “this is Patrick. He’s afraid of people.”

“I am not!”

“You are, Patrick,” Frank says without question.

“Am not.”

“You really are.”

“Maybe a little bit,” Patrick concedes. 

Someone very loud and very distinct sits down across from Frank, and he recognizes that person even without them having to say anything. No one else is just that loud though.

“Hey Brendon, hey Mikey,” Pete says, “So we’re sitting here today?”

“I guess,” Patrick mumbles.

“Who don’t you fucking know in this world?” Frank asks Pete, because the guy seems to literally know everyone.

“I don’t know Beyoncé, which is a real shame,” Pete replies. 

"I don't think you'd want to know her. She's seems a bit snobby.”

“Hey don’t diss Beyoncé!”

“Then again, you talk to everyone, and there are way worse people than her," Frank says referring to Blake, but he isn't sure if anyone else caught on to that. He doesn't care either way.

Frank puts his head down at the chips in front of him, eating them quietly for a few minutes and trying to ignore everything. He hears Pete talking to Brendon, and Patrick’s silence is almost deafening.

“You need to get over your fear of meeting new people,” Frank says to Patrick. “These guys seemed nicer than I am, but then again, I’m not very nice, so that’s not saying much.”

“Just no good at making first impressions,” Patrick mumbles.

“Yeah, or second or third impressions. Or any socializing at all for that matter,” Frank says, “See, I’m an asshole. You don’t want to talk to me. And also, you’re ugly.”

“Did I just get called ugly by a blind guy?” Patrick asks.

“Quite possibly.”

Frank’s quiet conversation with Patrick is broken by Brendon, who’s voice is particularly loud and probably carries far, makes a remark about Mikey.

"Dude there's a thumb print on your collar. A _red_ thumbprint. Were you out murdering people again last night? Why didn’t you invite me to go murdering?" Brendon says and Mikey looks down at his white shirt and sighs loudly. Mikey can't actually see the print because it’s a little further back on his neck, but he knows what it’s from without seeing it. 

“I don’t see anything,” Frank says and then grins as he takes a handful of his potato chips.

“Thanks Frank,” Mikey says, “ugh, fucking idiot brother."

"Was he painting around your clothing again?"

"The idiot dyed his hair bright red last night and he decided to do it while wearing my shirt! He's so stupid sometimes I swear. He’s lucky I’d be the first suspect if he were ever to go missing," Mikey huffs out angrily and starts picking through his food.

“Why’d he dye is hair bright red?”

“You’ve met him, he does weird things sometimes. Probably just a spontaneous decision he made. He’s a loser, what can I say?”

"He sounds cool to me," Frank states and he feels everyone's gaze fall on him. "What? I mean, I can’t see shit, right? I’ll establish this, in plain English, I can see light, and the way that red hits the eye is different from any color. I can see red. Kind of. Not well. Red is the best color though, because it’s the only one I can even kind of see. So if this dude has red hair then he's cool in my book. Also since he has the balls to sport that color on the top of his head then you have to admit he might just be the shit."

"He's a fucking loser just like the rest of us at this table," Mikey speaks and Frank shrugs.

"Yeah well," Frank munches on another chip, "None of us have red hair so I guess we're bigger losers than he is. I just think you guys have no fucking idea what it’s like not being able to see jack shit. Your brother, even though I’ve never met the guy, would make my life a little more colorful, even if it’s in the most insignificant way possible.”

“Frank, it’s just a color. Calm down,” Pete says, and Frank scoffs.

“Yeah it’s just a color. Says the guy who gets to see colors every fucking day. You get to underappreciate them just like every other goddamn person on the planet who never consider how lucky they are. Lucky that they get something so simple that it’s almost unbelievable we care in the first place. I’ve been blind for ten years guys, I don’t remember any colors. I don’t see colors. I can’t see them, at all. I just get little glimpses, little flashes of light that make it into my eye and the only color I’ve ever gotten from that is red. So yeah, red is just a color, it’s nothing exciting to you, because you get to see it every day. Me, I don’t. So you’ll have to excuse me for thinking it’s kind of cool that someone out there has red hair,” Frank says.

“We didn’t mean to disregard you like that,” Mikey says.

“Yeah well no one ever fucking does do they?” Frank says and looks down at the table, but he doesn’t actually look at all.

The whole world is made for people who can see. Made for people who get to know what color the trees are, for people who can walk through life and know the difference between green and evergreen. But you make enough blind jokes and people start to think that you really don’t care that you’re blind. That it doesn’t make you hate yourself for being faulty and pointless. Frank just sometimes wants to pull his hair out because everyone in the room, everyone in the entire fucking town, goes about their day normally and they don’t know how lucky they are. They don’t struggle to get dressed in the morning. They just sort of live and never realize what Frank would give to be them.

It’s true though. If Frank could just turn back time and not step out of the house that day... Or maybe he wouldn’t have gone out with his friend that day ten years ago. Maybe they’d spend more time hanging out at the park, just an extra five minutes so that Frank wouldn’t have been on that street corner. Maybe he’d have put his hands out in front of him to stop himself falling onto the sidewalk and hitting his head. Maybe if he’d looked at the world a little more that day to memorize it all, than he wouldn’t be here. He wouldn’t be at this school, and he wouldn’t have lost his old friends. He’d just be normal.

Normal. What he wouldn’t give to be normal.

“I don’t mean to sound bitter,” Frank says, even though he kind of does, “I just hate when people don’t appreciate a sense I’d sell my right arm for. That’s all.”

“Yesterday was a lot harder on you than you let on, wasn’t it?” Brendon asks.

“You have no idea,” Frank grumbles. They really don’t. It’s so belittling that Frank’s whole life, his entire life, can be completely ruined by a stick. A fucking stick! His entire life revolves around a hunk of metal, and he’s hopeless without it. That’s what’s really gotten to him. How can he ever expect to do anything with his life if he can’t even get out of a football field by himself?

“Wait what happened yesterday?” Pete asks.

“Not important,” Mikey says with a shrug.

“Okay then,” Pete says, and Frank smiles. So maybe he doesn’t believe in having friends, but he kind of likes Mikey and Brendon. Or at least, their toes will stay intact for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Insert humorous comment intended to get you to comment.*


	11. Passionate About Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank really did try to avoid Gerard...

“Frank, I’m proud of you, you have officially made it through your first week of school,” Pete says.

“Uh, I do believe I still have four hours left,” Frank replies.

“In four hours you will have officially made it through your first week of school, and I’ll be proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Frank says without any emotion, shaking his head.

“You don’t seem all that happy about surviving,” Patrick notes.

“Yeah well, these past three days without incident between me and Blake is making me wary,” Frank replies, “And it hasn’t been that great anyway.”

“Well that’s probably because you’re a pessimistic asshole,” Pete says.

Frank shrugs, “Well you’re not wrong. I hate that I’ve made it by likely due to having fucking bodyguards. That is so demeaning.”

“Well do you want us to leave you alone?” Patrick asks.

“No thank you,” Frank replies. He’s sitting at the lunch table and honestly he’s just waiting for this week to be over. He wants to pretend it never happened and that he’s having a really bad dream. 

“See he likes us,” Brendon says dotingly. 

“I will cut you.”

“Mean,” Brendon replies.

“Well at the very least, what we can take from today is that Patrick now has twice as many friends as he did last week,” Pete says.

“Two times zero is still zero,” Frank says. Patrick punches him in the arm and he grins back at where Patrick’s sitting.

“So listen, we usually celebrate making it through a week with outrageously overpriced coffee at Starbucks, if you guys wanna come,” Mikey says.

“Patrick did you hear that, someone just invited you to something,” Frank says, nudging him in the arm.

“I, ugh, you people do not appreciate me.”

“We really don’t, you’re right,” Pete says.

“I do rather enjoy overpriced coffee,” Frank says, “but I have no money.”

“Not that big of a deal,” Mikey says, “you can still come, just be all sad because you aren’t cripplingly in debt to a fucking coffee store.”

Frank shrugs, “I don’t know, my mother keeps me on a leash, because apparently being blind makes me staggeringly good at walking under anvils and into quicksand. It’s like she thinks I live in a Hanna-Barbera cartoon.”

“Well there’s no anvil’s falling out of windows, and for all I know, there’s no pianos either, because the only Starbucks is in the mall so...”

“Wait it’s in the mall?” Frank asks. He’s suddenly remembering Gerard, and how he kind of liked that guy. He told himself to avoid that guy at all cost though, because that would entail him getting close to people. This is as close as Frank will ever be to anyone. He’s using the four guys at this table as his bodyguards to make sure he isn’t thrown into a dumpster, but he doesn’t actually enjoy their company or anything. Or at least he tells himself that. He can tell himself one thing, but feel another.

“Yeah, is that a problem?” Mikey asks.

“I don’t know if I want to go there,” Frank says, as vaugely as he can so that he doesn’t have to explain that he’s afraid of a specific person.

“Well would it change your mind if we kidnapped you and didn’t give you a choice?” Brendon asks.

“That sounds more like something Mikey would say than you.”

“Well would it change your mind if we kidnapped you and didn’t give you a choice?” Mikey says, copying Brendon’s words.

“I don’t know,” Frank says.

"Come on Frank. You're going. You have no reason not to. Tell your mother you will be with four other people," Brendon says. 

"Uh, I never said I wanted to go," Patrick intervenes. 

"We said you are," Mikey says, giving Patrick a look that Patrick wouldn't dare go against. 

"Yeah, just tell her you'll be with four others," Patrick says and clears his throat. 

Frank chuckles and shakes his head at Patrick, "Man up, Patrick."

"You man up," Mikey says, "It's just a mall, not a sea of sharks."

"Yeah, ‘cause if it were, Mikey would be the first one to object."

"Shut it Brendon."

Pete leans over in Mikey's face and starts mimicking the music that's played when a shark is approaching in a movie. Mikey puts Pete in a headlock and Pete shoves him off while laughing. Frank makes the quick guess that _someone_ is afraid of sharks.

"Look, if I agree to go will you all just shut up?"

"Sure. We can't guarantee how long though," Brendon says with a chuckle. 

"Fair enough man."

“Okay, you’ve earned, like twenty seconds of shutting up then,” Brendon says.

“That is a long time to not say anything,” Pete grumbles.

“I bet you talk in your fucking sleep don’t you, Pete?”

“Not only do I talk, I recite Shakespearean sonnets in my sleep,” Pete answers.

“I bet you could perform all of Macbeth while unconscious,” Brendon grins.

“A one-man show of Macbeth probably,” Frank says.

“You guys! Don’t you know it’s unlucky to say the name?” Patrick says. “It’s The Scottish Play, if you must.”

“Patrick you superstitious nutbag,” Pete tisks at him, “we will call it whatever the hell we like. Macbeth. Macbeth! _Macbeth_.”

“Fine, but if you break your leg, don’t come crying to me,” Patrick says.

“Okay, so there’s a valid reason to not want to go to the mall then! We just got cursed!” Frank says.

“No, Frank. You’re going.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re so on edge here, like you’re waiting for Blake to pop up and give you a wedgie. Out of the school, maybe you’ll loosen up a bit.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Frank says.

“No, we do need a better friend selection process,” Brendon says, “this one is antisocial.”

“You’re the one who wanted to help him,” Mikey says.

“Because I am a good person!”

“You’re stuck with him, I’m afraid,” Pete says. 

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” Frank chides, “it’s annoying.”

“You know what else is annoying?”

“Pete?” Frank suggests.

“Precisely,” Mikey confirms.

The day passes by smoothly, with Frank hearing someone who’s voice sounds achingly like Blake’s, make fun of him in gym class. Frank just sits on the bench, and scowls at the black room around him, still trying to come up with an excuse to get out of going to the mall, but he’s coming up short. If he had one a few hours ago it might have worked, but seeing as that was a few hours ago, it’s too late. Unless one of his relatives suddenly burst into flames, Frank’s got no excuse that doesn’t make him seem like an even bigger dick than usual.

So that’s how Frank ends up sitting in a Starbucks, hiding under the hood of his sweatshirt, at 3:30 in the afternoon. He’s listening to some story about Pete from eighth grade or something, and not really paying attention. Frank’s been aware that these guys have all probably grown up together somehow or another. Patrick hinted that he moved into town only in his sophomore year, but Brendon, Pete, and Mikey have a long history. Frank just sort of sits there and tries to go unnoticed.

“Frank?”

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just... well I was going to say that you were staring off into the distance, but you’re not really,” Patrick says to him.

“You’re not talking much either, so can I guess that you feel out of the loop too?”

“I’m not a people person, really,” Patrick says.

“No? I couldn’t tell at all,” Frank replies sarcastically.

“You two are practically asleep over there!” Brendon says, looking at Patrick and Frank like they’re on the other side of the shop, when they’re just at the end of the table.

“Yeah well,” is all Frank says in response.

“Ugh, do you want a coffee or something?” Brendon asks, “I mean, you’re the only one who doesn’t have anything so-”

“If you’re offering me free things in exchange for nothing whatsoever, than I have one thing to say to you and that is, I take my coffee black.”

“You are a piece of work Frank,” Brendon says and then a chair screeches on the floor, telling Frank that Brendon probably just stood up.

“Nothing in it, Brendon. Just coffee, and trust me, I will know if you add something. I can’t see, so all my other senses are heightened. I will taste the difference.”

“Like Daredevil,” Mikey comments.

“Daredevil?” Frank asks.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know who Daredevil is,” Mikey says, which is a strikingly familiar conversation to Frank.

“No, of course I know who he is,” Frank says, which is somewhat true, but also somewhat of a lie, “he’s a superhero. Blind superhero.”

“Exactly,” Mikey says, “My brother adores him.”

“The cooler loser who dyed his hair red?” Frank asks.

“That’s the one,” Mikey responds, “You know he works here in the mall, actually. He’s got a shift as we speak.”

“That’s nice,” Frank says without interest.

“Here’s your coffee, Frank,” Brendon says, and Frank holds his hand out, almost whacking Pete in the face, for the cup. “Careful, it’s hot.”

“No really?” Frank says sardonically, and takes the cup in his hand.

“You going to thank me for buying you coffee?” Brendon asks him.

“Pete, thank Brendon for me.”

“Brendon, Frank says thank you,” Pete says.

“Thanks Pete.”

“Brendon says thank you for the thank you,” Pete relays.

“You’re welcome,” Frank says.

“So what’re we talking about?” Brendon asks.

“My brother,” Mikey states.

“What about him? Oh, isn’t he working right now?” Brendon asks.

“He is indeed,” Mikey answers.

“We should go say hi,” Brendon suggests.

“Why?”

Brendon says nonchalantly, “Because he’s a nice guy, I guess, and it’s never very busy over there right now, we’ll just stop in for a minute. We can introduce him to Frank and Patrick. See how quickly it takes for Patrick to piss his pants due to meeting strangers.”

“Fine with me,” Pete says and Frank hears chairs moving making him frown. He holds his coffee to his mouth and groans, looking up at where he thinks the other guys are. 

“But I just got coffee!” Frank says, “believe it or not, it is actually hard for me to walk and drink at the same time. You know, because I am visually impaired, or, I like to say, visually fucked to hell.”

"Well then I guess it's time you start practicing, huh?" Mikey states as he takes Frank's coffee and sits it on the table. He then pulls Frank up out of his seat, and laughs when Frank tries to hit him with his cane, but misses due to Mikey's awesome dodging skills. 

"What the hell dude?"

"You, my friend-"

"Not your friend."

"Don't tell me what you are to me. I will dangle you over the railing outside of this Starbucks. Try me." 

Frank is about to say something when Brendon interrupts, "I don't think that is wise, Frank. Just do as he says man, so we can get this over with."

"Yeah. Besides aren't you the one always yelling about independence?" Pete says. 

"Yeah, so?"

"So you're not going to sit on your ass at the table and sip your coffee. You're going to get up and learn how to walk with things," Mikey finishes Pete's point. 

"Starting with a hot ass beverage?"

"Why not? Tell you what... if you get burned I'll do your homework for two months," Mikey announces.

"Oh no," Pete says. 

"What?" Frank asks. 

"He's the last person you'd want doing your homework."

"Oh shut up, Pete."

"It's true," Brendon laughs. 

"I said shut up."

"Yes, to Pete, but not to me."

"Shut the hell up, Brendon!" Mikey says. An employee looks in their direction and Pete smiles and apologizes. 

"You're already standing so let's get this show on the road," Mikey says and picks up Frank's coffee. 

"Yeah, everybody look at the fucking circus act," Frank announces with annoyance. 

"Dude, cut it out. I am handing you your coffee now so put your hand out," Mikey says. Frank sighs but puts his hand out anyway. Mikey places the coffee in his hand and smiles. 

"Now," Mikey turns Frank towards the exit, "We will all be right here. We will make sure you don't trip or any stupid shit like that."

"Nice to know you'd think I'm stupid," Frank scoffs. 

"Please get your Victoria's Secret out of your ass, Frank."

"How do you even know the name of women's underwear?"

"Well I happen to have a girlfriend who wears amazing things from that place. Also, the same way you must know about them... television," Mikey smiles.

"How can she even afford that shit? My mom always complains that just one piece of string costs more than dinner for three nights. If you shop accordingly."

"That's the last thing I'm thinking about when I see her in it, Frank," Mikey chuckles. 

"Right."

"We need to get you laid. And fast," Mikey adds. 

"Either way, I won't be able to see how good the person looks in their undergarments."

"Oh but you will feel it. You said it yourself. You're other senses are heightened," Brendon says, suggestively. 

"Can we please just get going?" Patrick whines and they all turn to look at him. 

"Oh look, the church mouse has spoken," Mikey speaks and they all laugh. "Come on, Patrick. We're going. Get over here so you can be Frank's other shoulder should he need it."

Patrick walks over and Frank turns in his direction and offers him a smile. Mikey places his hand on the small of Frank's back indicating him to move, and Frank automatically thinks about when Gerard had had his hand there. Frank feels nothing like he had when this was Gerard's hand and that worries him a bit. Okay, a lot. 

"I got it. Get off of me!"

"You're so lucky you have that coffee as protection," Mikey snarls jokingly. 

They walk at an even pace through the mall to make sure Frank doesn't drop his coffee. He's doing a great job and it's annoying him how much the guys keep saying it and patting his back like this is some kind of football game. 

"Would you all stop with the damn patting and chanting?"

"You're so evil."

"Just stop it. All I need is for one of you to pat me too hard and make me trip up or something and drop this shit. Also can you all space the fuck out? I feel like I'm being stuffed in a small fucking cubicle or a convection oven. You're all hot as shit."

"Why thank you Frank. That was very kind of you to say," Brendon remarks. 

"Can this day be over please?"

"It'll last forever and ever," Mikey says. "I will make sure of it."

Frank groans and turns when he feels Patrick's hand on his shoulder guiding him. They walk into the shop and laugh when Patrick trips on nothing. 

"The blind guy is doing better than you," Brendon says. 

"This blind guy wishes he could've seen that."

"Hey bro!" Mikey calls out into the empty store in front of him. Frank can’t see him anyway, but Mikey’s brother is nowhere in sight. Frank's head turns when he hears shuffling and then there's a red blob coming towards him. Mikey sees Gerard first and rolls his eyes, still not used to the mop of fire engine red in his hair. Gerard raises his brow as soon as he spots Frank behind the group of boys. 

"I thought you didn't have any friends."

Frank's eyebrows shoot up and he knows he's hearing things. That can't be Gerard who just spoke to him. Sure the guy has a unique voice that Frank would know anywhere, and he hates to admit that, but this just couldn't be. Could it? 

Then there is the fact that this guy said what Frank had told him. Frank remembers having that conversation with Gerard, and everybody to be honest, so it has to be him. He also told Gerard that red was the only color he could almost see, and here is this guy with the voice standing in front of him, with a head full of red hair. It has to be a coincidence. 

There is also Mikey though. Mikey had stated that his brother loves Daredevil. There's just too many things that lead to this actually being Gerard. _The_ Gerard. Frank twists his head to the side and furrows his brows. If Frank could see himself right now he'd know he looks like an adorable confused puppy. 

"Wait, you know Frank, Gee?" Mikey asks and Gerard nods. 

"I met him a few days ago on my lunch break. Seeing as though he's with your group I imagine you met him at school?" 

"That's somewhat correct," Mikey nods. Gerard looks at him questioningly and Mikey just shakes his head and mouths 'I'll tell you later'. Mikey points at Frank and does the hand to neck head shake. Gerard nods and mouths an 'oh' back at Mikey. 

"Gerard's your brother?" Frank adds to the questions. 

"Yeah, that's the dude you called cool for having red hair, and almost broke all of our necks for."

"Huh?"

"Frank got angry with us for not understanding his happiness for red," Mikey states. 

"We almost ended up in a puddle of red," Brendon adds. Pete nods and laughs. 

"He's pretty passionate about the color red," Pete says. 

"I know," Gerard speaks and Mikey looks at him. Frank smiles but tries to hide it and fails miserably. Gerard catches the smile just like he catches every other one Frank tries to suppress. 

"You know?" Mikey asks and then looks like a light bulb just went off in his head. "Wait a minute! He's the reason you dyed your hair red and ruined my white shirt isn't he!" 

Gerard laughs and he shrugs at his younger brother. 

"No one else dyed their hair for Frank to see. Unless you..." Mikey's eyes widen and he swats at Brendon's arm hitting him repeatedly. 

"Ow!"

"Ew! You got the hots for Frank!" Mikey yells, and Frank gasps and then scowls. 

"What the hell do you mean ew? I am fucking beautiful, okay?" Frank sips his coffee to stop any oncoming smiles from happening. He doesn't want Gerard to know that it makes him feel a little bit of excitement that he dyed his hair just for him. 

Gerard smirks, because, although Frank is hiding behind that cup of coffee, he can't cover the blush in his cheeks. It's about as red as the new color on the top of his head. 

“I wouldn’t say for Frank exactly. I’d been thinking about it for a while. Frank just pushed me into it,” Gerard says. Frank snorts, the lie there is so transparent.

“You’re like a giant floating blob, you know that?” Frank says snickering. “Just a big red blob that’s floating around like a discombobulated head.”

“Thanks,” Gerard says.

Mikey takes a breath and then says, “Okay, so Brendon, Pete, Patrick, and I are going to go stand on the other side of the room to give you two the illusion of privacy when in fact we are going to be listening in on your whole conversation completely, so keep it PG. Actually, Patrick might tell us that eavesdropping is rude, which will then lead Pete and/or I to hit him in the arm, where he will then walk over to Frank like a small child and tattle on us for picking on him.”

“That’s a deep analysis,” Gerard states.

“I don’t want to talk to Gerard!” Frank shrieks, almost panicked.

“Thanks,” Gerard scoffs.

“I, I mean, I don’t know you. Really. Not really. I don’t know you,” Frank scrambles.

“That didn’t seem to stop you from talking to me before,” Gerard says. Frank just slurps at his coffee and he can tell that the others are already inching away from him dramatically like they’re all in an overly dramatized theater production. Like maybe Macbeth.

“Hey Patrick, if you walk away from me right now, I swear to god I will say Macbeth to you every hour on the hour for the next week.”

“What an odd threat,” Gerard says, looking down at Frank with a big goofy grin on his face.

“He’s superstitious. Evidently.” 

“Uh, no thanks,” Patrick says meekly.

“No thanks as in you don’t want me to say Macbeth, or no thanks you do want me to say Macbeth?”

“Could you stop maybe?” Patrick asks, and Frank grins in Patrick’s general direction.

“Oh, who are we kidding, Frank. Who do you think scares Patrick more? Me or you?” Mikey asks.

Frank doesn’t respond to that one, because Mikey makes a good point.

“Patrick, I’m warning you,” Frank says as a last ditch effort to not be stranded here alone in the middle of a comic book store with a flamboyantly colored guy who he might sort of kind of like.

“I’m gonna,” Patrick starts and then Frank can tell he’s walking away. That’s probably partly due to the fact that Patrick is terrified of strangers and Gerard is a stranger.

“So your friend is afraid of The Bard’s Play, is he?”

“Oh god not you too,” Frank mumbles.

“What?”

“You just called it ‘The Bard’s Play’!” Frank says.

“Well yeah, but that doesn’t mean I necessarily believe in the curse. I just don’t want to tempt fate, that’s all. There’s no harm in being careful. It’s not like I’m putting garlic on my stoop, I just don’t want to say the name of it.”

“Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself.”

“Did you just quote Rowling on me?” Gerard asks, “Oh I like you.”

Frank blushes when Gerard says that and puts his interest into his coffee cup, hoping that the warmth of the coffee gives an explanation for the pink rising into his cheeks.

“Why don’t comic book stores sell popcorn?” Mikey’s voice says loudly.

“I know where you live Mikeyway,” Gerard shouts at him. 

“Fuck you too, Gee,” Mikey yells back. Frank’s fairly sure that there’s no other customers in here right now, but he’s not certain.

“So Frank,” Gerard says, and Frank can tell he’s stepped in a little closer, “I was starting to think I was never going to see you again.”

“Well I’m never going to _see_ you for a first time,” Frank says.

“You know what I mean.”

“Well you weren’t going to see me again. I didn’t know Mikey’s brother was you. I just thought that this town had an insatiable craving for Daredevil or something,” Frank says.

“You weren’t going to come back?” Gerard asks, sounding really hurt and Frank doesn’t know how to feel about that. On one hand, he likes Gerard maybe too much and he feels bad about making him sad, but on the other hand he likes Gerard maybe too much, and that means he needs to drive that sucker away before he gets too close.

“Uh... no?” Frank says.

“Why not?”

“Well because I don’t like having friends,” Frank says.

“One, two, three, four,” Gerard says like he’s looking off into the distance, “I count four in the corner of this room alone.”

“Not friends.”

“What about the little one with the admittedly adorable fear of The Bard’s Play?” Gerard asks.

“Well I’ll tell you something, I don’t feel the need to chop his toes off in the dead of the night,” Frank says cryptically.

“That’s nice?”

“Trust me, it is,” Frank says, and this is where he would wink if he could, and wasn’t wearing sunglasses at the bridge of his nose.

“So you didn’t want to meet me again,” Gerard says, changing up the way he phrased it, “so does that mean, you’re going to avoid me when you step out that door today?”

“Uh, well, yeah.”

“Great,” Gerard says, sounding cheerful.

“What?”

“Great. Because my shift just ended, and we’re going to walk out that door together so that I can make you retract that statement,” Gerard says, turning around and grabbing something off of the counter behind him.

“Where are you two going?”

“None of your business, baby bro,” Gerard says, and puts an arm around Frank in a manner that is way too close for Frank’s liking. He knows it’s probably just to annoy Mikey, or to get Frank to actually follow wherever Gerard is taking him, but he does not like how much he _likes_ how close they are.

“No seriously, where am I going?” Frank asks as he’s steered out of the shop, almost dropping his coffee.

“Away from my pervy younger brother,” Gerard says, and with that, they’re out of the comic book store. Gerard’s arm is still around his shoulder and he’s really warm. Frank tries to tune it out as he lets the low rumble of the mall fall around him.

“So why are you kidnapping me exactly?” Frank asks.

“I’m borrowing you, lighten up. But I’m going to make you take back your words. You’re going to want to meet me again, I promise.”

“And how do you plan to do that? Get me to fall in love with you?” Frank jokes.

Gerard just laughs quietly, “Give it time, Frankie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment?


	12. Coffee On You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank hates everybody, essentially.

Frank's mind is reeling with the words Gerard just spoke. Did he really mean that, and if so how could he be so sure that Frank falling in love with him would actually happen? Frank wouldn't put money on that happening any time soon and Gerard shouldn't either. Why is it that Frank's stomach is fluttering now? He hopes it’s not because Gerard's arm is around his waist and massaging his hip softly.

"I can walk alone you know," Frank says trying to hide the nervousness in his voice.

"I am well aware of that," Gerard responds nonchalantly.

He knows he's getting to Frank and that's what he's hoping for. Gerard knows it won't be an easy task though. Sure, he is aware that he has an effect on Frank, but the effect isn't long lasting. Frank is fighting it and Gerard is up for the challenge. Gerard pulls a chair out for Frank once they make it to their destination and Frank would roll his eyes if he could.

"We just came from here, Gerard," Frank speaks with an edge to his voice. He doesn't want to sit here again and smell the brewing of coffee for another half hour.

"Correction, you and your friends just came from here."

"The longer it takes you to realize I don't have friends, the longer it'll take you to get on my good side," Frank sits his coffee on the table and smiles to himself from the little accomplishment. Gerard smiles at him too and Frank can almost feel the pride radiating off of Gerard. It would make him feel sick, if this wasn't the boy who dyed his hair just so he could see him.

"And here I was thinking I was already there the first day I met you. I'm going to go get me some coffee."

"Well I figured that much," Frank cuts in.

"I could've wanted something else. You know coffee isn't the only thing this place has."

"I'm blind, not stupid."

"I never implied that, sugar," Gerard says with a smirk and chuckles at the way Frank's face twists. It is an adorable confused expression and Gerard has a feeling he'll be seeing it more often.

"Your coffee," Frank says, trying to rush Gerard off, but that only gets him talking more.

"Right. Do you want anything else to drink or maybe a little snack? Your coffee has to be cold by now."

"Broke," Frank answers bluntly and takes a sip of said coffee that is indeed cool now.

"I remember. That's why I'm offering," Gerard says and sits down across from Frank.

"Why do you insist on buying me things? You shouldn't spoil me," Frank says sarcastically.

"Maybe I want to spoil you."

"Why?" Frank sips his coffee again and then makes a face and pushes it away. Gerard laughs and shakes his head.

"Maybe I believe you deserve it. Maybe I think I should be the one to give that to you. Maybe I want to give you everything you desire; even if it is just a coffee and a comic."

Frank lets out a soft chuckle, so soft you would barely know it happened if you weren't paying attention. Is Gerard serious, and more so, why? Why would Gerard want to pursue the blind boy who can barely make himself a bowl of cereal? What is it that Gerard sees in Frank? Frank wants to know so badly, but for once he doesn't want to ruin things.

Frank made it obvious when they first met that he wants no friends, and he definitely doesn't want a boyfriend. Gerard makes him feel conflicted though. If he doesn't want those things he wouldn't be sitting here fighting off a smile, and he wouldn't be internally speaking to himself about it. Frank needs to get this boy away from him and _fast_.

"Maybe?" Frank questions.

"Well it's all up to you. You have made it clear how you feel towards me. I'm not going to say 'I want' when I know you don't want that. Less painful when it doesn't go my way knowing I never fully said it. I just hope I can sway you a different way with time," Gerard replies.

“Are you admitting to liking me?” Frank asks, feeling both flattered and revolted at the same time.

“Maybe I am,” Gerard reaches out to touch Frank but Frank recoils quickly. He feels the movement coming before Gerard even attempts it.

"Why me?" Frank blurts out and then gives a shocked expression. He didn't expect himself to actually say that.

"Why not you?"

"Because I'm blind. I can't _give_ you anything," Frank sighs and waves his hands in the air as he begins to talk again. "Let's say this does go somewhere, hypothetically speaking, I can't do anything for you. I can't cook for you. I can't clean for you. I can't even pick out gifts or clothes for you to surprise you with when I'm no longer poor. I can't lay your clothes out for you for work the next day or even wash them. I can't make you a candle lit bath after a hard week at work to soothe. I can't drive you home when you're too tired to drive. I can't tell you how nice you look on a date night. I can't tell you if your hair makes you look stupid or not. I can't give you anything, Gerard. I can't do anything for you." 

Frank looks away from Gerard even though he can't see him, he knows his eyes are burning into him. Frank would hate to admit it, but he's on the verge of tears right now. This is getting to him more than he ever thought it would. Maybe it's just an overwhelming feeling of the last week or something.

Frank has never shared the longing to do any of those things for someone. He’s always kept his true feelings inside and locked away. Here is Gerard now, though, making him want to do those things even more, and with him. No matter how much Frank could tell himself he wants nothing to do with Gerard, that isn't true. He knows he's never felt this way with anyone and he knows it's because he likes Gerard more than a person would like their potential friend.

Frank can't understand it. He can't like someone this much after one meeting. He can't get little flutters in his belly whenever he touches him. It isn't possible, is it? Frank can't let Gerard get close to him, he knows that would be wrong. Frank thinks of every wrong scenario late at night which have been keeping him away from the mall. He tries to make Gerard into an enemy just so he won't chance getting himself hurt emotionally.

Frank knows there’s a chance that everything could go perfectly between them, but he doesn't want to take it. He has been toyed with so much throughout his life that getting his heart played with is out of the question. He would never put himself into jeopardy like that. He would only have himself to blame if he let Gerard in and Gerard ended up hurting him. Frank can't be optimistic when it comes to his heart.

Gerard can sense the sadness in Frank even though he’s trying to fight it off. That only makes Gerard want to hold him even more and give him the world. Gerard knows it’s probably stupid to feel this way about someone this quickly, but he can't help it with Frank. Even if Frank only wants to be his friend, or someone whose toes he doesn't want to chop off, he would take that. Gerard is determined to be in Frank's life somehow.

Gerard knows Frank just revealed a big chunk of himself to him and he knows that has to count for something. Frank wants Gerard around, Gerard can just feel it, but Frank has to protect himself; Gerard knows that too. He can't blame him either. Frank has been dealt a shitty hand at life, but that's all the more reason to let Gerard just _be_ there for him. Gerard wants Frank to let him be everything he needs.

Gerard clears his throat, "You can love me and give me happiness. You can put a smile on my face and make me laugh. You're already doing a great job at all of those things. You don't have to do anything for me, because I want to do it all for you. Hypothetically speaking of course."

Frank shakes his head and looks in Gerard's direction again, "Maybe you should get your coffee now."

Gerard sighs and nods although Frank can't see him.

"I saw that," Frank says, proving Gerard wrong.

"What?"

"You nodded at me."

Gerard smiles brightly and nods again, "I did."

"You have to remember I'm the reason you dyed your hair that color," Frank points to himself and then playfully sticks his tongue out at Gerard.

"I'll remember that."

"You'd better, comic boy," Frank smirks.

"So... want anything?"

"Yes. I want you to hurry up and get your coffee so we can get out of here. I'd also take a chocolate chip cookie please."

Gerard laughs and stands up to make his way over to the counter, "Coming right up."

Frank is honestly really happy about the fact that he got a free chocolate chip cookie. For one thing, it’s a damn good cookie, and for another, it was free. Free always tastes so much better.

“You have chocolate on your face,” Gerard says, laughing at Frank.

“Oh no,” Frank says, not caring.

Gerard grabs a napkin from the table, but before he can do anything Frank holds a finger out to him and says, “You touch me, you die.”

“But there’s chocolate on your face.”

“Where?”

“On your chin,” Gerard says and Frank rubs at his chin. Frank assumes he’s gotten it when Gerard doesn’t say anything more on the subject.

A minute later there’s the sound of the coffee shop door opening and then a rumble of voices that Frank is all too familiar with. 

“See I told you Gerard would take him to get coffee,” Mikey’s voice says, “where else would a man addicted to coffee take his boyfriend?”

“You are not my boyfriend,” Frank says warningly at Gerard.

“But of course he was in the last place we looked,” Pete says.

“Well yeah, Pete,” Brendon says, “of course he’s in the last place you look. Why would you keep looking once you’ve found him? That is just counterproductive.”

Frank feels someone sitting down next to him, and he’s gotten pretty used to identifying these guys by the way they smell so he knows it’s Pete.

“What up, Frankie, how’s your date?”

“Not a date!” Frank says, a little too loudly.

“Jeez, Gerard,” Mikey starts, “you really need to do a better job at scouting out your dates. Maybe choose someone who’s into you next time.”

“It’s not a date,” Gerard says, because he knows Frank won’t appreciate it if he doesn’t correct Mikey.

“Whatever you say,” Mikey says sitting down, “sure does look like a date.”

“Why? Because we got coffee? I got coffee with you four too, does that mean we were all in a date?”

“No,” Brendon insists, “three or more people makes it more of a gathering. It’s a group of people hanging out. There’s something just so intimate about two people alone in a coffee shop though. Especially when one of you offers to pay for the other because he’s got no money.”

“You paid for my coffee too, Brendon,” Frank says.

“Yeah, but I didn’t buy you any cookies,” Brendon replies.

“It is not a date,” Frank repeats, looking down at the table and feeling Pete staring right at to him. 

“Well if it were a date, and I’m not saying it is,” Gerard starts, “then don’t you think it would be extremely unromantic for a bunch of weirdos to crash it right in the middle?”

“Not at all,” Mikey says, “after all, we need to make fun of our friend.”

“Not your friend,” Frank interrupts.

“Who says I was talking to you, Frank?”

“Michael, I am not your friend either,” Gerard says.

“Don’t call me Michael!”

“I’ll call you whatever I like.”

“Ah, but what you like is Frank and that name’s already been taken,” Mikey says dotingly.

Gerard doesn’t deny liking Frank so Frank does it instead, “Gerard doesn’t like me.”

“I think you’re putting words into his mouth. Gerard never said he didn’t like you,” Pete says.

“He doesn’t,” Frank says gritting his teeth.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Mikey teases.

“Ugh, I hate all of you. Someone just drive me home,” Frank pleads.

“Sure,” Mikey says, “Gerard has a car.”

“I do?” Gerard asks like he doesn’t even know himself if that’s true.

“Yes,” Mikey says, “Don’t you remember saving up for four years to buy it?”

“Oh _that_ car.”

“Yeah, that car,” Mikey says, mimicking Gerard.

“You know who else has a car? Brendon,” Frank says.

“Yeah, but it only seats four people. Unfortunately Frank, there’s no room for you,” Brendon says, and Frank’s not sure where he is, or whether he’s sat down, but he sure would like to kick him. Frank also doesn’t know where Patrick is because he hasn’t said anything, but he’s assuming the guy is still there.

“Brendon, you drove me here,” Frank says, “literally. You shoved five of us in your car only two hours ago, why can’t you do that again?”

“I don’t recall that ever happening,” Brendon says plastically, “do you Mikey?”

“What? No, it’s not ringing a bell.”

“You guys are not serious are you?”

“Frank, are you sure you’re feeling okay,” Pete asks, “Because I am certain that that never happened. There were only four of us in the car.”

“Well then how come there’s five of us here right now?” Frank asks.

“Oh, Frank,” Brendon says, “you silly goose. You’re just playing around with us, aren’t you? You know there were only four of us.”

“I cannot believe you guys,” Frank says. “Patrick, please, for the love of god, Patrick, tell them that we all came here in one car.”

“Uh,” Patrick stutters before saying, “I don’t, uh, remember.”

Frank groans, “I fucking hate you. Especially you Mikey.”

“Same,” Gerard says, though mostly he’s just mad that Mikey interrupted his ‘not a date’ date with Frank.

“So, you’re not going to drive me then, Brendon?” Frank asks.

“I told you, there’s no room.”

Mikey makes a generic gasp and says, “Hey, I have an idea. Gerard has a car! Frank, maybe _he_ could drive you home.”

“Oh really?” Frank asks.

“I would be happy to drive you home, Frankie,” Gerard says.

“I’m sure you would,” Frank grumbles, “Patrick, are you sure you don’t remember how many people there were in Brendon’s car?”

“No I don’t remember at all,” Patrick replies.

“Patrick, I am disappointed in you,” Frank says, shaking his head.

“You wanted me to make friends,” Patrick says in a quiet voice.

Mikey chuckles, “Well it’s a good thing Gerard likes you, Frank. He probably wouldn’t even drive _me_ home if I asked him too.”

“You have two legs, you could walk home,” Gerard says.

“I have two legs!” Frank says.

“Frank,” Pete says, looking at him narrowly, but it’s not like Frank can exactly tell. 

"That is indeed my name," Frank says.

"You're riding with Gerard and that's it. Let's go boys before he persuades Patrick to take his side."

"So I can persuade you?" Frank asks hopefully.

"See ya, Frankie," Patrick replies and shuffles out of the coffee shop quickly.

"He's learning so well don't you think, Frankie?" Mikey asks and pats Frank on his shoulder. Frank pushes Mikey's hand off his shoulder and Mikey just laughs. "See you at home, bro."

Gerard nods at Mikey and then waves by to Brendon, "See you guys. I'm staying over so I'll definitely see you Gee. Later."

"Just what I need!" Gerard sighs and watches as they giggle and rush out of the shop. "They're going to tease me about you all night."

"I guess you better lock yourself away then."

"You have clearly never been to my house. They are worse than rodents. They don't stay away."

"I'm sorry," Frank says with a voice that proves otherwise. "So are you going to force me into your car now or later?"

"I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want, Frank, but I will follow you home if you decide that you want to walk," Gerard says with a smile.

Frank groans and drops his head on the table. Gerard is too busy trying to ignore the noise Frank made to even realize that he's not talking to him. Gerard instantly feels like a pervert. He completely blanks out on the world for a moment and when he comes to, Frank is looking at him like he’s an idiot.

"Helloooooo?" Frank shakes his hand in front of Gerard's face and sits up completely. "Did you hear me or do you have dye stuck in your ears?" 

Frank giggles at his own joke and Gerard just stares at him, "What did you say?"

"I said I think it's time we get out of here. I have so much to do when I get home," Frank lies.

"Excuse me if this comes off a little insensitive, but what could _you_ possibly have to do when you get home? You said it yourself, you can't do anything," Gerard nibbles on his lip nervously when he sees the look on Frank's face.

"That's not going to get you into my pants," Frank says and stands up, scraping his chair back loudly. "You're an ass."

"I was just repeating what you said, Frankie."

"It's fine for me to say that, you don't get the right," Frank points at Gerard and goes to head out of the shop. If this was anyone else, Frank wouldn't even give a shit, but Gerard said that after he bared so much to him. That hurt him a little. This is exactly why Frank isn't giving Gerard the time of day.

"Okay, you're right. I'm sorry Frank," Gerard says almost pleadingly. He stands up and grabs Frank's arm. "Hey, look, I'll do whatever you want to make it up to you. Please just don't be upset with me. I didn't mean it like that."

"Anything?" Frank says teasingly.

"Anything Frank."

"I want coffee on you every time I see you. If I see you," Frank turns back to Gerard and walks over to the table. He's reminded of Gerard's hair when he says the word 'see'. He sits down at the table again, and makes out Gerard’s form in front of him. He reaches out and touches Gerard's hair and makes a face.

"Your hair texture feels different, obviously it must be from the dye."

"Yeah, it's going to take a few days to set in, and I have to get my special shampoo for it."

"Make sure you do that as soon as possible. I like the way your hair felt before," Frank continues to fuck with Gerard's hair. Gerard allows it because he likes the feeling of Frank carelessly playing with his hair.

"So do we have a deal?" Frank asks while looking in the direction he knows Gerard's eyes are, knowledge he learned from the first time he touched his face.

Gerard is fighting the urge to pull Frank into a hug and just keep him there forever. Instead he nods slowly and smiles a tiny smile, "Anything for you."

Frank swallows and then clears his throat. He stands up and nods towards the exit. Gerard takes the hint and stands up, he gets rid of their trash, and then starts out the door with Frank closely behind him.

In no time they’re in Gerard's car, and Gerard is starting it up so he can turn on the heat for Frank. He can tell the boy is a little colder than he let on and he faintly wonders if he has something wrong with him.

"Are you okay?" Gerard asks.

"Hm? Yes. Why do you ask?"

"You just seem unhappy to be in the cold."

"I'm sure your brother and Brendon will tell you all about it when you get home," Frank answers coldly, figuratively as well as literally.

"Did something happen to you, Frank? I could handle it for you if you need me to."

"I don't need you to do anything for me Gerard. I am a big boy. I can handle myself."

"Right. I understand all of that hoopla you keep going on about, but you could accept help from other's occasionally," Gerard says.

"Everyone wants to help me. Tell me Gerard, what would you have done? Are you going to be my knight in shining armor? Keep me safe from all harm?"

"No, but I could hurt anyone who hurts you," Gerard states.

"Right, because violence is always the answer. Besides, Gerard, we are nothing to each other."

"I may be nothing to you, but you aren't nothing to me. I don't waste my money on nothing and I damn sure don't let nothing into my car."

Frank is quiet for a moment before saying, "Can you just take me home?"

"It'll be my pleasure Frank. I told you, anything you want," Gerard notices Frank hasn't put on his seat belt, so he takes it upon himself to lean over Frank and cause the boy a mini heart attack.

"What are you doing?" Frank asks in a panicked tone.

"Your safety is in my hands," Gerard replies so close to Frank's ear he can feel his ear melt. He silently screams for Gerard to hurry up with the damn belt so he can stop invading Frank’s personal space, and give him back the ability to breathe.

Gerard moves back a little as he pulls the strap across Frank's body and snaps it into place, "There you go, Frankie. Safe and secure. Let's get you home."

Gerard backs away and puts on his own seat belt before shifting into gear and pulling out. Suddenly Frank doesn't feel so safe. He can't trust himself to keep up with his plan of not letting Gerard get to him.

During the whole ride Frank has to endure Gerard singing along to the tunes coming from his radio. Normally Frank wouldn't complain about that, he likes hearing people make fools of themselves. This time is completely different. Gerard can _sing_ , and not just karaoke sing, but can ‘take over the world’ sing. Frank is stumped to say the absolute least.

When they come to a stop and Gerard turns the car off, Frank has never tried to escape so fast in his life. He trips himself up though, forgetting about the seat belt, and causing an embarrassing scene that he does not want to deal with. He reaches for the clasp and frees himself from the confinement that is Gerard's car. He closes the door quickly and tries to scurry off. When he hears Gerard's door close too he curses himself.

"Hey, you don't have to walk me to my door."

"Stop being silly, of course I do," Gerard replies.

"Gerard, you don't have any obligations to me. Cut it the hell out."

"You'd like that wouldn't you?" Gerard wraps his arm around Frank's waist, like he's so familiar with doing now, and guides him towards his door.

"Gerard please just go! I have this. I walk this path every day! There's nothing that can happen to me. My mother has made sure of that. See all of that snow and ice?"

Gerard looks around with a raised eyebrow and confused look on his face, "No."

"Exactly. I'm safe, now go."

"I will go if you promise me something."

Frank sighs and whines a little, "What is it, Gerard?"

"Promise me you'll see me again. Not because anyone forces you to, but because you want to. Also, only promise me if you truly mean it, not because I'm sort of forcing you right now. You can say no," Gerard says, and Frank detects the underlying sadness in his voice.

For some reason he can't hurt Gerard's feelings. He almost felt like shit when he did that earlier. He also wouldn't deny him because he knows deep down inside that he really wants to hang with Gerard again. The boy dyed his hair for him for Christ’s sake.

"Okay comic boy. It's the least I could do since I made your hair all brittle and stuff."

Frank can hear the smile in Gerard’s voice when he responds, “okay good. That’s good. Maybe I can read you some Daredevil next time.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Frank says, pawing at the key hole on the lock so that he can escape Gerard. He’s not sure if ‘escape’ is really the right word. All he knows for sure is that Gerard makes him feel kind of tingly and that it’s a really nice feeling, which is why he must run the fuck away from it and never look back. Ever.

“I hope you have a good rest of the day, Frankie,” Gerard says, walking slowly away from the door so that Frank doesn’t yell at him for coming too close.

“Just, ugh, one last thing, Gerard,” Frank says.

Gerard grins and turns to look at Frank, “yes?”

“Why do you keep calling me ‘Frankie’?”

Gerard shrugs, which Frank can’t see obviously, and says, “Well the other guys were calling you Frankie too.”

“Not until they heard _you_ call me that.”

“Well I just think ‘Frankie’ suits you better. Is that all, Frankie?”

Frank is going to say something else, but then he decides against it and huffs. He turns the door knob and tries to block out Gerard saying bye to him. Frank doesn’t return the farewell, which is a little rude, but he doesn’t want Gerard getting any ideas.

Frank closes the door behind him, and his beating heart feels like he’s in a horror movie. It feels like he just slammed the door shut on someone chasing him. Except his heart isn’t racing because he’s scared, it’s a different feeling, one Frank’s not familiar with.

“Who was that?” a voice says, making Frank actually scared for a moment until he realizes it’s his mom. That’s almost scarier though if he’s being truthful.

“What?”

“Don’t play that game with me, Frank,” his mother says, “You knew I’d be waiting for you.”

“Yeah, I did,” Frank says, stepping into the room, and shrugging off his jacket.

“So who was that? You told me you were going to the mall with Brendon and Mikey. Neither of those boys were with you just now.”

“That was Mikey’s brother,” Frank says, feeling like he’s being interrogated.

“Whose name is?”

“Gerard.”

“And how old is Gerard?” His mother asks, and Frank huffs.

“I don’t know, like twenty? Twenty one?” Frank replies, “I didn’t ask, because I don’t care.”

“Conveniently old enough to buy alcohol,” his mother says and Frank’s whole body is screaming to roll his eyes, but he just shakes his head.

“You worry too much,” Frank says, walking into the house and trying to find his way to the kitchen, but there are boxes booby trapping the entire trek.

“So where were your friends then?” his mother grills, following Frank.

“They ditched me because apparently, it’s fun to leave me alone with Gerard. They probably would have driven me home if I’d fought harder on the debate, but I didn’t want to lose that much of my pride.”

“So-”

“Before you ask me anything more,” Frank interrupts, “the guy means nothing to me. He just likes to, I don’t know, follow me around and make sure I’m not about to walk off a cliff or something. He’s overbearing, just like you.”

“Are you sure he means nothing?”

Frank groans, “Yes, I am sure. Why do you ask?”

“Well he was a handsome young man, and he looked somewhat... infatuated with you,” his mother replies.

Frank turns a shade of red, and tries to disguise it by coughing slightly, which makes it all the more noticeable and stale looking. His mother isn’t fooled by the act at all, but she doesn’t say anything, because if Frank gets any redder he’ll turn into a tomato.

“He’s just like that,” Frank says, brushing her off and making his way over to his room.

“Whatever you say, Frank,” his mother calls behind him, “are you ready for dinner?”

“I’m not hungry,” Frank replies and shuffles over to his room where he then collapses onto his bed. He makes a combination between a squeal and giggling sound when he hits the mattress, and he’s not sure why. Today definitely did not go the way he’d anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a forewarning, we might be taking a very small break from this story (not a long one, like maybe a week).


	13. Everything I Do, I Do It For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy chapter.

Gerard gets out of his car and fluffs his hair a bit. 

‘ _Seriously?_ ’ he thinks to himself? Gerard has never been the type. It’s not like Frank can see his hair anyway, sure he can see the color, but not much of the style. Frank does touch his hair, though, and Gerard is kind of hoping Frank will again.

"What the hell are you even doing Gerard?" Mikey asks in an amused voice.

"Being gay for Frank," Brendon intercepts the question.

"Fuck off the both of you. This is why I would let you two freeze on the walk home before I let you anywhere near my car," Gerard spits.

"I guess it's a good thing I own a car now isn't it?" Brendon asks.

"Count your fucking lucky stars."

"Oh lay off it. You love us," Mikey says with a cheeky smile.

"I love you because I have to, but let's face reality... if you weren't my brother I'd break you in half so I could pick my fucking teeth with you," Gerard snarls and pulls out his chap stick to apply some to his lips.

"And here I thought Mikey was the sadistic one."

"He learned from the best, Brendon. Sleep with both eyes open in the Way household," Gerard smirks and starts dragging the chap stick across his lips.

"Come on you fucking diva. Why does that even matter? He's not going to fucking kiss you," Mikey says while rolling his eyes so hard he is sure they'll screw out of their sockets and land on the ground.

"He appreciates my cherry chap stick, nimrod," Gerard says with a snarl.

"How does he even know you use cherry chap stick?" Brendon intervenes.

"Because he has a good sense of smell, you imbecile," Gerard snaps.

“Is it just me or is it really hard to hear the term ‘cherry chap stick’ and not think of kissing girls and liking it?”

“Shut up,” Gerard says.

"You sure are nice to people you wanted to help you out," Brendon replies quietly.

"I asked for my brother's help, you just happened to have a car that would get him here to help me."

"Wait a minute," Mikey says holding up his hand to silence the boys. "He smelled your chap stick from _how_ far away?"

"He wasn't, uh, very far," Gerard clears his throat and tries to get away from a smirking Brendon and questioning Mikey.

Mikey grabs Gerard's arm to stop him. Gerard yanks his arm away, but stays put. After Mikey keeps prodding with his eyes Gerard finally throws his hands in the air with a huff, "He touched my lips while he was trying to get a feel of what I look like. He smelled his fingers I guess, because he felt the chap stick."

The boys giggle like school girls and rush away to avoid Gerard hitting them. They are legit giggling up a massive storm. The boys try to contain their laughter as they knock on the door. Frank hears the knock but his mother is in the shower, so he takes it upon himself to answer the door. He walks with his cane and Daredevil comic in his hand.

Frank yanks open the door in only his pajamas and a t-shirt, causing him to cross his arms across his body. It takes a while for the blobs at the door to focus as much as possible with Frank being blind and all. 

"Are you Jehovah’s witnesses, because if so I think it'd be wise to just leave? Trust me, my mother isn't the type of person you want to talk with about this kind of stuff. She'll make you rethink everything," The boys stay quiet and Frank furrows his brows. They are only here to be Gerard's support with Frank's mother. "Um, I'm sorry, but usually people who want to beat me up have something to say first."

"Oh Frankie, we wouldn't do that," Gerard says standing up from tying his shoes behind the boys.

Frank thinks he might fall flat on his face at the sound of Gerard's voice. He notices he’s holding the Daredevil comic and throws it behind his back with a nervous chuckle. 

"So you three think it's cool to just show up on someone's doorstep unannounced after only a few meetings?" Frank's eyes finally focus in on Gerard's hair a little better, but the brightness of the morning light blurs even him a bit. 

"We're only here for moral support. Gerard has yet to meet your mother."

"Oh God no! No!" Frank starts to panic. His mother already had enough to say about Gerard. Frank tries to close the door, but Gerard pushes between the boys and puts his foot in the door. Frank slams it pretty hard and Gerard groans.

"So much for me thinking you wanted me to keep my toes."

"Shit, no, I'm sorry. You have to go, dude," Frank tries to push Gerard's foot out of the door and fails miserably. "You cannot meet my mother."

"Why not?" the boys all ask in unison.

"Because... no. Okay? No!"

Frank's mother calls out and his eyebrows disappear into his hair, "Frank, is everything okay baby?"

"Oh God no," he whispers quietly and Gerard just chuckles. That seems to be the only thing Frank can say right now.

Frank's mother comes to the door and opens the door fully, completely abolishing Frank’s efforts to close it, "Brendon, Mikey, good morning."

"Good morning Ms. Iero."

"Oh please. You must be Gerard? Nice to meet you face to face."

"It's nice to meet you too," Gerard takes Frank's mothers hand in his and kisses it. Frank just catches the act and hears Gerard's lips damn near moistening his mother's skin with his cherry chap stick.

"Oh please, Gerard. Don't be a fucking suck up," Frank says with a slightly mortified look on his face.

"Frank!" Frank's mother says.

"What's the matter, Frankie? Are you feeling left out?" Gerard takes Frank's hand in his, but before he can even get Frank's hand to his lips Frank is whacking him repeatedly in his leg. "Ow! I did not come here to get beat on."

"Well I guess it doesn't matter why you came here when you show up unannounced," Frank snarls.

"You opened this door without my knowledge Frank, you weren't supposed to do that," Frank's mother reprimands him.

"Well it wasn't going to answer itself."

"You still should've told me you were answering it."

"You were in the shower, excuse me, but I don't want to see you naked mother," Frank says, completely skipping over the part where he wouldn’t see anything, because he’s, like, blind.

The boys suppress their laughter and Frank's mother places her hands on her hips, "Come inside boys. We're not finished, Frank."

"Shouldn't I have a say in this?" Frank asks in annoyance.

"No, this is my house, and I let who I want inside of it. Understand?"

"I don't want them here."

"That is quite rude Frank, and I did not raise you that way. Now cut it out, do you understand?"

"Fuck, yes mom," Frank folds his arms angrily.

Truthfully he does want to be with Gerard again, but on _his_ terms. Who does this guy think he is? He can't just show up when he wants without an invitation of some sort. It annoys Frank that deep down inside, it makes him giddy that Gerard took the risk and came anyway. He's happy that he's here, but he is going to make Gerard sweat for a bit, no matter what his mother says.

Gerard smiles at the adorableness that is Frank. He could just scoop him up and shower him with kisses. He's a cynical ass, sure, but he can make Gerard forget all about it. It's things like the narrow cuteness of Frank's lips, or the perfect arch of his eyebrows, or the way he tries to hide his beautiful smiles, or the way he laughs whenever Gerard manages to pull it out of him. The way his hair falls perfectly, the perfect sharpness of Frank's jawline that Gerard wouldn't mind kissing too, just everything about him.

"Now, you inform me the next time someone is at that door, okay?" Frank's mother rolls her eyes when Frank only nods and sighs. "Someone bad could've been on the other end of that door Frank, they could've hurt you."

"Seriously, if they know you, they wouldn't chance it," Frank replies.

"You and that mouth of yours. Either way I'm not risking it, so you tell me when someone is at the door before answering."

"Yes mother," Frank answers sarcastically.

"You really shouldn't speak to your mother like that, Frankie," Gerard steps in.

"You really shouldn't mind business that isn't yours," Frank scowls.

"He's right you know."

"He's met my mother now, you two can leave," Frank spits at Mikey. Gerard smiles and the boys giggle knowingly while Frank's mother just smirks. "What?"

"Oh nothing," Mikey says in a singsong way.

"What!" Frank says looking around at everyone. "Mom?"

"I'd like to help you son, but you never seem to want my help."

Frank groans and pushes his hand through his hair. Gerard is more than intrigued by the movement, but those kind of thoughts are just off limits with Frank's mother right there.

"Hey, you!" Frank shouts

"Who?" Gerard asks, because Frank didn’t specify who it was he wanted to chew out.

"You! What's the joke? I’m lost."

"Oh now you want me-"

"Shut up and just answer me."

"I can't very well answer you when you tell me to shut up. Make up your mind Frank," Whether Frank caught the double innuendo there is unknown to Gerard, but he is definitely referring to where he stands with Frank.

"Just answer," Frank whines and suddenly he just wants to be back in his bed.

"You just invited me to stay over."

"What? No I didn't.”

“You did," Brendon says.

“I didn’t mean to,” Frank says.

“Frank, let the boy in,” His mother says.

“But I don’t want him to come in,” Frank complains.

“Are you sure?” Gerard asks.

“Mikey and I are going to leave,” Brendon says, and then Frank is aware of the two of them rushing away quickly. He can even hear the two shouting at each other to hurry up, followed by the revving of an engine.

“Guess I’m stuck here,” Gerard says, and Frank can tell he’s smiling.

“Manners, Frank,” his mother says.

“Fucking hell,” Frank says, and then stands back, “please, Gerard it would make me ever so happy for you to enter my home.”

“Alright sure, but I don’t appreciate the sarcasm,” Gerard says and Frank can feel him walking by.

His mom starts, “So-”

“Nope, if Gerard is going to invade my life without asking first, he’s not going to converse with my mother,” Frank says, and starts walking through the living room, hoping Gerard takes the initiative and follows.

“Uh, Frank?” Gerard asks.

“What?” Frank huffs.

“Why is your copy of Daredevil hanging on top of a lamp?”

“Uh,” Frank starts, “I don’t know, I’m blind. How am I supposed to know what hangs off of what?”

Gerard smirks, and walks past Frank’s mom, who looks at him like she’s sorry for the handful also known as ‘Frank.’ Gerard grabs the comic from the lamp, and he knows it hasn’t been there long because it probably would’ve caught fire if it had, and it’s not warm either.

“Where are you taking me, Frankie?” Gerard calls behind Frank.

“Well unfortunately there is no entrance to hell anywhere in this house, but you are clingy as fuck so I know you’re not going to leave that easily,” Frank says, walking along until he’s standing in front of the door to his room. 

“Are you trying to tell me that you’d throw me into a pit of hell if you had the chance?” Gerard asks.

“Yes.”

“Frank!” His mother shouts at him, so he’s probably being too rude. What he wouldn’t give to just buy that woman some headphones sometimes. She’d just get even more critical of him though.

“I’m not apologizing,” Frank says.

“I wouldn’t want you to.”

Frank enters his room, and hopes that maybe Gerard will disappear into thin air, because that would make this all so much easier. He wouldn’t have to deal with the fact that he’s totally effected by this man. He wishes he wasn’t, but he is.

“So this is your room,” Gerard says, standing in the doorway.

“No,” Frank says, “I just led you into someone else’s bedroom. In this two bedroom house. This is just a random bedroom. Of two rooms.”

“You’re sarcasm gives me life,” Gerard laughs.

“Yeah, close the door or she’ll eavesdrop on every word you say,” Frank says, sitting down on his bed, and trying to ignore Gerard.

Gerard just snickers at Frank, and Frank hears him walk further into the room. There’s a soft sound of the door closing, and then Frank gets a sudden leaden feeling in his stomach. All of a sudden he’s more alone with Gerard than he’s ever been. He’s in his room, nowhere near where other people can look in on them. 

“Frankie,” Gerard says.

“What do you want?”

“I just wanna talk with you, Frank,” Gerard says, “and also you made me a promise that you’d let me read you Daredevil, seeing as you can’t do it yourself.”

“I’m not going to appreciate it,” Frank says. He feels his bed move as Gerard sits down beside him. He fidgets uncomfortably, trying to figure out where Gerard is so that he doesn’t touch him or have to be anywhere near him. He doesn’t trust himself being near to Gerard.

“I’ll describe it to you,” Gerard says.

“Alright comic boy,” Frank says, “explain away.”

“Well I told you what Daredevil looks like. He’s got these little devil horns on his cowl,” Gerard says.

“Oh man, that’s intimidating,” Frank snorts, “A guy wearing red tights with devil horns. Fucking hell someone call the janitor, because I’m gonna piss myself.”

Gerard rolls his eyes, “he looks kind of intimidating, I guess. He kind of looks like Batman except red.”

“I remember what Batman looks like!” 

“Really?”

“Well, a little,” Frank says, “not that much, but I kind of remember.”

“Did you want to be Batman when you grew up?” Gerard giggles.

“Me? No. I wanted to be in a band.”

“Me too. Well, technically I wanted to be Morrissey.”

“You’re a dork,” Frank laughs. “Keep going, tell me more about this Daredevil guy.”

“Uh, his name is Matt Murdock-”

“What a dumb name. I can see why he goes by Daredevil.”

“We’re never going to get anywhere if you keep interrupting,” Gerard says, “Alright, so Matt Murdock. He had an accident as a kid with radioactive material-”

“Why is it always radioactive material? One of these days I want a superhero to get superpowers after falling into a vat of mustard.” 

“What did I say about interrupting?” Gerard asks, and Frank rushes an apology. 

About thirty minutes later, Frank still has not successfully let Gerard get through more than a few sentences without interrupting. Gerard starts to like it though. Likes the way that Frank keeps laughing and smiling all through the comic. Gerard almost doesn’t want to read the comic anymore, he’d rather just watch Frank’s reactions to it.

Of course he knows he has to read the pages in order to see Frank’s reactions though. He decides to get a feel of what Frank remembers of Batman instead. Frank remembers quite a bit about him and it thoroughly impresses Gerard. 

"Wow, I'm impressed. People who watch Batman with me can't even tell me that much about him."

"What can I say? I really loved Batman," Frank sighs with a shrug, "I guess I still do actually." 

Frank smiles as he remembers a fond memory of when he turned fifteen years old, "There was this one birthday I had where I was Batman, I turned fifteen. Anyway, my mother got the materials for it, and stayed up for two days straight tending to me, and making the costume. She spent so much time on it and I told her it didn't have to be perfect, because I wouldn't see it, and neither would anyone else." Frank chuckles softly as he continues, "She told me that on the chance that I may see again she didn't want me to be upset with her when I saw the pictures." 

Frank sighs softly, "I still haven't been able to see it, obviously. It felt like it was an amazing costume though."

"So your birthday is Halloween?"

"Yes, it is."

Gerard smiles, "You have the best birthday ever."

"It's not really the best when I can't celebrate it to the best of my ability," Frank shrugs sadly. 

"If you let me stay in your life I'll make sure to make it the best for you."

Frank lets out a breathy laugh and smiles brightly, "I hate to admit this, but I do want you to keep your toes. Although I tried to take them off earlier with the door and my cane."

"Hey, no worries," Gerard shakes his head at Frank. Gerard returns the smile Frank is giving him. 

Frank puts his head down in an attempt to hide the soft bite he applies to his lip. Gerard catches him anyway, but says nothing, like always. He just sits there and enjoys the view. 

"So what did you do that night?" Gerard asks, genuinely interested. 

"I listened to movies with my mom. She turned the television away from herself so that she couldn't see the screen. She had blind folded herself for that too. It was the sweetest thing, at that time, that she had ever done for me," Frank gnaws on his lip. 

"She really loves you."

"I know she does. She's been everything for me, and even though I give her a hard time, I'm very thankful for her," Frank smiles and shakes his head. "Anyway, mom made popcorn for us, and we threw it at each other, trying to make it into each other's mouths, and missed miserably, because neither of us could see. We didn't answer the door for any trick or treaters. It was my night only and all the candies belonged to me." Frank imitates a haunted laugh causing Gerard to laugh loudly with him. 

Gerard can't fully believe this is the same Frank in front of him. Frank is so calm and just talking so freely with him. Gerard has never seen him this calm, not even the first and second time they saw each other. Gerard is feeling proud of himself for making the boy loose and free. It means a lot to him. 

"Later on she let me help her vacuum, because I felt so bad letting her clean alone. There was popcorn everywhere! Every step there was a crunch. It was really hilarious. Before we cleaned up all the popcorn she took two pictures, one of just me surrounded by the popcorn, and one with both of us on the floor in the popcorn. It was so silly, but it is the best birthday I have ever had," Frank finishes quietly. 

"You're eighteen now."

"Mother's been working more these past birthdays. My fifteenth one was the last one she had off the whole day. She gets home in time to watch one movie with me and eat some candy, but nothing like that day. I appreciate it all, nonetheless. They're all special, as long as I'm not alone. That would suck a lot," Frank shifts on his bed and leans against his headboard. 

"Do you still have those pictures?" Gerard asks hopefully. 

"I do."

"Would you mind showing them to me? You can say no if you want."

"I am fully aware of that, Gerard. However, for once, I won’t be an ass." 

Frank slides off his bed and walks to his dresser without the help of his cane. He keeps his room very clean and he knows it pretty well already. Frank gets on his knees and pulls his last drawer open. He shifts through his pajamas until he feels the two frames that his mother put the pictures in. He used to keep them up at his old house, but he can't see them, and he realized wishful hoping of one day waking up, and being able to see was idiotic. So he stores them away in the bottom of his drawer. 

Frank takes them out and closes the drawer. He walks over to his bed and holds them out for Gerard. Gerard takes them and instantly smiles, a smile so huge he was never aware that he was capable of it. If this is what fun looks like with Frank around, Gerard has never been more certain of anything in his life. Frank would be the one no matter how long Gerard has to work for it. 

Frank's smiling so sweetly in the picture and holding his bucket with candy filled to the brim. True to his word, there is tons of popcorn everywhere. In the other picture he has his head resting on his mother's shoulder, and they're both smiling like it’s the last smile they'll ever have. Gerard thinks it's the sweetest thing in the world. 

"You're quiet. Is it that bad?"

"It's amazing, Frankie," Gerard says in awe. 

There's something more beautiful about it than if this was a normal family. A mother and her son on his birthday. She even still has the blindfold on in the photo. 

"Really? Could you tell me what you see?" Frank asks, bouncing lightly in front of Gerard, and wringing his hands. 

"Love," Gerard answers simply and Frank smiles. 

Frank reaches for the photos, but Gerard stands up and brushes past him, almost causing him to lose his breathing ability like in Gerard's car. Gerard’s got to stop that or Frank’s going to get asthma. 

"Where are you going?" Frank asks as he watches Gerard's red hair float around. 

"I'm putting your photos on your nightstand."

"I can't see them."

"But I can, and if you ever grant me access in here again, I want to always see those photos. Got it?"

Frank grins and nods, shocking the hell out of himself, "Got it."

Gerard walks back over to his place on the bed and Frank follows him. Frank sits in front of him, purposefully, and smiles. 

"Your hair looks bigger today."

"Wait, really?" Gerard asks happily. 

"Yeah. I can see it better in this lighting, whereas it was too bright outside. If I was to go back where I was sitting originally, the light from my window would ruin it again," Frank explains. 

"Well I'm glad you're sitting right there," Gerard says with a smile. Frank reaches out and Gerard is shouting to the heavens above internally right now. 

Frank's fingers disappear within Gerard's tresses, "It's way softer than yesterday. I take it you got that shampoo you told me about." 

"I did. I went this morning and took care of it," Gerard says quietly. Frank's fingers are still working through his hair and he's finding it hard to keep his eyes open. 

"Did you do that for me too?" Frank asks with a raised brow and a grin. 

"Lately, it seems everything I do, I do it for you," Gerard says and stops Frank's hand that's moving gently across his scalp. He keeps his hand on top of Frank’s, still matted into his hair.

"It hasn't even been that long," Frank says, not pulling away, completely stumping them both. 

Frank is letting his guard down, and he isn't sure how he feels anymore. One part of him doesn't care. That part wants to let whatever happens run its course. The other part of him though, screams for Frank to pull away from Gerard. Back away and never get that close again. 

Gerard is still holding Frank's hand and he's aware that Frank's allowing it. What he isn't aware of is _why_. What could have changed within an hour and a half? It could just be the fact that they're alone in Frank's bedroom. Gerard knows that's part of it. 

Gerard hates himself for thinking it, but he wants to kiss Frank so badly. He knows that'd be pushing it though. He should be grateful for just being able to touch Frank more than just on the small of his back. He removes Frank's hand from his hair and holds it delicately in his own. 

"From the first time I saw you I thought 'he's beautiful'. I know you don't want anything more with me right now, and I'd be lying if I said that doesn’t bum me out, but I'm willing to be whatever you want me to be."

"If I ever decide I want friends you'll be the first one on my list."

"Whoa!" Gerard's slightly shocked. “Even before Patrick?”

"I met you first, and you were the first person to lead me around in this town. You'll be first. _If_ I decide I want friends," Frank says with a smirk. 

Gerard hopes he could be first at so many things with Frank. So many questions roam through his mind that he'll ask Frank at another time. Like if he's ever been kissed, or been on a date? Sadly, he thinks he already knows the answers to those questions. Not entirely sadly, though, cause Gerard could be the first. 

"I'd love to be your first."

Frank's breathing isn't cooperating with him right now. There is no discreetness in that statement. Gerard isn't just talking about one thing and Frank knows it. Instead of calling Gerard out on it he just takes his hand away from him and slides back on his bed. 

"You're welcome to join me. Just not too close, and take off your shoes," Frank says.

"What if I have stinky socks?"

"We all have our days. Well, not me because my mom won't allow that, but if it was up to me I'm sure something would stink in here."

"I was kidding you know?"

"I don't care either way. Are you going to join me? You can finish telling me about Daredevil. I'll keep my lips sealed," Frank zips his lips and holds out the invisible key to Gerard. 

Gerard takes the hint and shifts to take the key from Frank's hand. He makes sure he touches him so that Frank knows he took it, but he knows Frank knows that without being touched. He's really great with his senses like that. 

"Awe, the key to your heart," Gerard sighs dreamily and laughs. 

Frank just smirks at him and recites Gerard's line at him, "Give it time, Gee."

Gerard is fully aware that Frank just gave him a nickname and Frank smiles knowingly back at him. Gerard's heart picks up and he's sure he's about to burst of happiness. He moves closer to Frank on the bed and starts reading him more about Daredevil.

“He’s a lawyer. I told you that already.”

“Why is it that all superheroes have really mundane second lives?” Frank asks, “Like, if I were a superhero, I wouldn’t be some lawyer guy, I’d be a celebrity or something. I’d be like Hannah Montana. Musician by day, superhero by night. Talk about the best of both worlds.”

“Don’t you think people would catch on to that charade?” Gerard asks, laughing.

“Well you don’t expect a blind guy to be either of those things so I’d say probably not.”

“You would never get to sleep,” Gerard shakes his head.

“Sleep is unimportant when I’ve got people to save.”

“What would your superhero name be?”

Frank thinks for a moment, “I don’t know. You’ve only given me a second to think. It’d be something cool though.”

“I’m sure.”

“Well how about you? You can see, you’ve got more options. Who would you be?”

“What? I don’t know!” Gerard says, “I’m clumsy and I don’t know how to fight. I’d be, like, the butler. I’m Alfred.”

“You’re not cool enough to be Alfred.”

Gerard opens his mouth to defend himself but then realizes that Frank is probably right, “oh god, I’m the guy who gets kidnapped every week aren’t I? I’m the damsel in distress!”

Frank chuckles, “Don’t worry, if I’m a superhero, I’ll rescue you.”

“Really?” Gerard asks, “you’d come rescue me? The dumbass redhead who got himself kidnapped in the first place?”

“Well yeah, sure, but only because it would make me look all badass and humble,” Frank grins.

“I’d be lucky to have you rescue me.”

Frank blushes, and he really wishes Gerard were the blind one because of how much he does that. It’s getting ridiculous. He’s going to turn into the Kool-Aid guy if he keeps this up.

“Keep going,” Frank says, “or we’re never going to make it through the comic, and it’s only the first one.”

“Are you inviting me to read the rest of them to you?” Gerard asks.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well would you want me to?”

Frank sighs, “Time will tell.”

“That's not a no, I’ll take it.”

After what seems like forever, but it's really only another thirty minutes, Gerard finishes up the last page of Daredevil. Gerard is aware that Frank has moved a little closer after he used the bathroom. Gerard doesn't say anything, he just sits there and takes in Frank's scent. He smells like clean clothes on a summer's day, which is funny because it's winter. 

Gerard checks the time and it's only going on one in the afternoon. Gerard’s feeling a little tired, but he doesn't want to be rude by falling asleep in Frank's bed without permission. As if on cue Frank yawns, and Gerard smiles at the boy. 

"Tired?" Gerard asks. 

"I could use a nap. How ‘bout you?" Frank says hoping Gerard would say the same. 

"I could too. Maybe I should go and let you get some rest."

"No!" Frank answers too quickly and loud. "I-I-I mean... you could just nap here if you'd like. I don't mind."

Gerard is astonished to say the least, but there's no way he'd say no to sleeping in the same bed as Frank. That’s the last thing he’d ever do.

"That'd be cool."

Frank nods and shifts a little. Gerard lays down comfortably and Frank soon follows. Frank pulls his duvet over himself and gives Gerard the option of climbing under too. Gerard knows he'll get hot, but he can always just remove it when that happens. 

Frank's head is touching Gerard's shoulder lightly and neither of the boys say anything about it. Frank inhales deeply and exhales slowly. Gerard reaches for Frank's glasses and he flinches, but only because he wasn't expecting it. Frank nods letting Gerard know it's okay to continue. Gerard takes off the shades and reaches over to place them on his night stand. 

Gerard turns back to Frank, but Frank has his eyes closed. Gerard lifts Frank's chin and he opens his eyes to look at Gerard. In this moment Frank wishes he could see him so badly. Frank's eyes are clouded and sadly they take on the look of a dead person's eyes. Gerard knows they're anything but dead though. 

"What color were your eyes?" Gerard asks. 

"Green, but they kind of changed to hazel in the right lighting. I will always remember that," Frank says in a hushed tone so that Gerard can't hear the sadness in his voice. "I know they're scary now. I don't take off my glasses much in public. It scares people."

"They're idiots."

"Not everyone can be idiots, Gee."

"You're right, but that doesn't change my statement."

"So my eyes don't scare you?"

"No. They're just another part of you that I like a lot. You have zombie eyes, and zombies are pretty fucking cool in my book," Gerard chuckles softly and Frank smiles, equally as softly. "Besides, your eyes tell a story."

Frank moves his head onto Gerard's shoulder and Gerard holds back a gasp. He lets the boy stay there and closes his eyes. He listens to Frank's breathing and hears it slow to a rhythmic beat. Gerard falls asleep soon after Frank does. 

Frank's mother pokes her head into the room and smiles kindly. She's shocked at what she's seeing, because she knows Frank would never get that close to anyone. Gerard must be pretty special, she thinks. She leaves the room for a brief second and rummages through a few boxes until she finds what she's looking for. She walks back to Frank's room and takes a picture of the boys sleeping. She sighs and closes the door softly behind her as she exits the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment?


	14. Because

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter, buckle your seat belts.

“Oh fuck,” Frank says.

“What?” Gerard asks sleepily.

“Exactly.”

“Huh?” 

“You’re here,” Frank says, and Gerard feels Frank pulling himself up. Mostly he notices the movement because he no longer feels the warmth of Frank leaning against his arm. He misses the contact as soon as it’s gone.

“I am?” Gerard asks, because he knows that’s true, but he’s not sure what Frank means by stating the obvious.

“You shouldn’t be there,” Frank says.

“Why not?”

“Because,” Frank says.

“Because why?”

“Just because,” Frank replies. 

“Are you mad at me?” Gerard asks, feeling sad, as he finally decides to open his eyes and wake himself up. He’d rather not. Frank’s bed is comfortable. Mostly it’s because it’s _Frank’s_ bed.

Frank pulls himself up and sits on the mattress, with his back facing Gerard. It’s almost like he’s staring at the wall, but he isn’t of course. 

“No, I’m mostly mad at me,” Frank replies.

“I’m sorry.”

“I shouldn’t have let you stay here,” Frank mumbles. Frank is terrified that he let Gerard sleep in his fucking bed. What was he thinking? The goal was to not get close to Gerard. The goal was to not want to be near him. His main goal in life right now was to not get attached to this stupidly bright haired guy, and now he’s gone and let his guard down way too much. He let the guy _sleep in his bed_. That is the opposite of not getting close. That is getting close. That’s getting really close.

The worst part about the fact that Gerard is right there is that Frank has the urge to grab him and cling to him. He’s not sure why. Gerard has a really warm presence and Frank is so sure that he’s the kind of guy who you really want to hug, but Frank does not want himself to want that. He does obviously want that because he’s human, but he wishes he didn’t.

“Frank,” Gerard says softly, almost sadly, and he puts a hand on Frank’s shoulder.

Frank tenses up when he feels Gerard touch his shoulder, and Gerard notices immediately. Gerard doesn’t know what to do though. He just woke up, and he’s fighting off the urge to grab Frank and kiss him. That’s not a good thing to think about a guy who keeps suppressing having any emotions for Gerard at all.

Gerard kind of hates the way Frank affects him, but in the kind of way that he’s happy about. He’d rather be angry at himself for not being able to kiss Frank than have never met him at all. That would be a million times worse. He doesn’t understand what it is about Frank that has him hooked though. Gerard just needs to see this story through. He needs to find out how or _if_ his future has any interaction with Frank’s. Ideally, they’d intertwine, but Gerard isn’t optimistic about it. Especially not with the way that Frank keeps denying to either himself, or Gerard, or both of them, that he even enjoys Gerard’s company.

To both Gerard and Frank’s surprise, Frank doesn’t shake Gerard’s hand off of him. He doesn’t really do anything for a moment until he breathes in and sighs.

“Fuck,” Frank groans.

“What?”

Frank ignores Gerard’s question and instead asks a completely different one, “What color are the walls?”

“Uh?”

“Gerard, what color are the walls in this room?”

“They’re, um, sort of a light green. Why?”

“Because I can’t see them.”

“So you asked me?” Gerard asks.

“Yeah,” Frank says. “Why? Is there someone else I should’ve asked?”

“No,” Gerard says, because now he’s all confused too. It never really occurs to him just how much he underappreciates being able to see. Frank can’t see anything so he must be really curious all of the time.

“So is it like a Kermit the Frog green or more of a, um, I don’t know any other greens... like a Christmas tree green?”

“Not really either,” Gerard says, smiling, because he hadn’t anticipated that he’d have to describe a paint color to anyone today. “It’s sort of, like a, uh, I don’t know, just pale green. Not really an in your face color.”

“What’s it feel like?” Frank asks, “I don’t know what green looks like. I, uh, it’s just not coming to me.”

“Feel? Like, what’s it remind me of?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Gerard nods and thinks, “Well, I guess, it’s kind of like the color of a Christmas tree, but really pale. Uh, sort of a spring color. Makes me think about the time of the year when everything is starting to come into bloom. Summer’s almost there, but the air isn’t too hot yet.”

“What would it smell like if you could smell it?” Frank questions.

Gerard thinks for a few minutes and tries to come up with the right word to describe the walls to Frank, “I think, uh, sage.”

“That’s rather descriptive,” Frank notes.

“You told me to describe it to you!”

“Yeah,” Frank smiles, “and you did. Thank you. It means a lot.”

Gerard stops for a moment, trying to figure out whether Frank just thanked him. That’s got to be a first.

“Y-you’re welcome,” Gerard stutters.

Frank is very aware of the fact that Gerard's hand hasn’t left his shoulder when Gerard squeezes it lightly. "Hey, are you still mad?" Gerard asks quietly. 

"I hope you aren't," Gerard says not giving Frank a chance to answer. "I mean, I don't fully know what's going on with you internally, but I hope none of it is regret. That was the most comfortable I've slept in a long time."

Frank sighs and drops his head down. He doesn't want this. Frank can't fight Gerard off when he's saying sweet things to him and treats him so nicely. Why can't Gerard just be a dick like almost everyone else he encounters, or at least just friendly like Patrick, Pete, Mikey, and Brendon? Why does Gerard have to like him, and furthermore, why does Frank like him back?

Gerard shifts on the bed, moving closer to Frank, and rests his chin on top of the hand that's on Frank's shoulder. Frank stops breathing, and Gerard is aware of it. That has to be a good thing right? I mean, of course Gerard doesn't want Frank to die, but Frank being breathless when Gerard touches him is a good thing. Gerard just stays there thinking of what to say or do, because Frank hasn't said anything in response to what he said.

Frank fights to compose himself enough to speak a sentence or two. With Gerard breathing in his ear like that, it's a bit troubling to do so. 

"I don't really know what to say," Frank admits.

"Don't say anything, Frankie. You deserve to be happy, okay? I don't know why you think you have to push me away or something, but I'm not going anywhere. Not unless you truthfully tell me right now that there's no future with us. As friends or something more," Gerard inhales Frank's scent and smiles to himself. When did he become such a creep? "So is there no chance of a future with us?"

Frank finally exhales and turns towards Gerard, which is a bad idea, because Gerard's lips brush against his cheek. Gerard doesn't move, but Frank does, not before letting it linger a little longer though. 

"I guess only time will tell," Frank whispers and Gerard's smile widens.

"I have time now," Gerard states.

"So?" Frank questions.

"So... how about you let me take you out to dinner to pass some of this time," Gerard asks coyly.

"U-uh, I-I don't think t-that's a good idea," Frank says breathlessly, because Gerard is now nudging his neck with his nose.

"I've already slept with you in your bed Frank. I think that should've been number one on your list of 'not good ideas'," Gerard whispers into his neck.

"Trust me, it is," Frank whispers back.

Gerard chuckles softly and fights the urge to full on kiss Frank's neck. Instead, he wraps his free arm around Frank's waist and squeezes him, taking a chance. "So let me take you out. Please, Frankie?"

Frank is going to die, right here and now, if Gerard doesn't stop. At least that'd be his get out of dinner free card. Frank can't understand for the life of him why he hasn't elbowed Gerard in his gut and pushed him away by now. Gerard is trying to mold himself into Frank, and truthfully it feels good, so that could be why. Frank knows the only way Gerard will let go is if he says yes to dinner, and right now he needs Gerard to let go or he doesn't know what he'll do, or let _Gerard_ do.

"I have to get dressed," Frank replies simply. "You have to get out so I can get dressed." Frank doesn't want Gerard to let go, but he has to. He doesn't though.

"Won't you need help?" Gerard asks.

"No, not really," Frank says hoping that'll be enough to get Gerard to let go and leave.

"You need some clothes don't you?" Gerard asks while rubbing his nose back and forth against Frank's neck.

"Yes, and I need you to let go of me," Frank says as his breathing quickens. "You need to let go of me."

"If that's what you want," Gerard answers, and obviously that's not what Frank wants. That's not what he wants at all, but he can't actually allow what he wants either. That just isn't going to happen.

"Well you can't get my clothes holding onto me," Frank reasons, noting the hint of sadness in Gerard's answer. He doesn't like hearing that in Gerard's voice.

"You're right," Gerard says and squeezes Frank one last time before letting him go and moving back on the bed. "So do you know where your clothes are?"

Frank swallows and nods. He turns in Gerard's direction and points at his dresser. "My jeans are in the left second drawer. My shirts are in the right second drawer."

Gerard nods and stands to go over to the dresser. Frank listens as he shifts through the drawers. "Do you have anything specific you want to wear?"

"You're the one with the eyes, what do you want to see me in?" Frank asks a little more confidently than he should have.

Gerard chuckles a 'hm' and continues to sift through the many jeans Frank has. "I thought you said you were poor."

"I am, it's not my fault I've stopped growing. I don't really have to throw out old clothes, because I don't grow much. I have tons of clothes, from when I was like fourteen on up. Ask my mother, she has bins of them. She yells at me for having so many clothes that she has to store some away, but I just tell her it's her fault. If you don't want me to have so many clothes stop buying them. Am I right or am I right?" Frank asks with a shrug of his shoulders that makes Gerard laugh at how cute he looks.

"You're right," Gerard says as he checks out a nice pair of black jeans that Frank has. He throws them on the bed and moves to the shirt drawer. "What does she say when you say that?"

"She simply tells me that she can't neglect me and not buy me new clothes. I don't think it's neglect if I have tons of old ones," Frank shrugs again, but this time absently.

"I agree with you," Gerard says as he throws a white button up shirt on Frank's bed, followed by a long sleeve black shirt. "Do you have a say in what you pick out?"

"Oh yeah, I pick out everything. She explains it to me and I say yes or no. Sometimes she'll surprise me with things that she knows I'll like, like band tees and super hero tees, but anything else I pick out."

"You have great taste," Gerard states.

Frank chuckles quietly, "I know. Thank you anyway."

Gerard nods because he knows Frank can see him better now that the sun has started to set. "You have a lot of stripe shirts, are you aware of that?"

"Yes."

"Some of them are the same colors," Gerard says with a bit of confusion.

"Ah, yes, but are they all the same width?" Frank asks.

"What?" Gerard asks making a face.

"Pick up two stripe shirts that are the same."

Gerard turns back to the drawer and picks out two black and white striped shirts. He turns to Frank, holding them in the air.

“What colors?"

“Black and white,” Gerard says.

“Right, and are they striped the same?”

“Yes,” Gerard replies.

"Now, I'm the blind one here right? I can’t see those, but I can assure you that, although those are the same shirt, they are the exact opposite of the same shirt?"

"What?" Gerard asks, again in bewilderment.

"You're an idiot Gerard. One of those has the thin stripes and the other has to have the thick stripes. I even have one more in there that has medium stripes," Frank finishes with a nod.

"Are you kidding me?" Gerard asks as he notes that Frank is in fact correct.

"No."

"I am an idiot," Gerard sighs and puts the shirts back into the drawer and closes it. "Do you need any, uh, undergarments?" Gerard asks awkwardly like he didn't just damn near fuck Frank's neck.

"Just socks. Top right drawer. I showered before you showed up so I'm set on underwear. I have been walking around in these socks though, so I could use a new pair."

Gerard has the socks by the time Frank finishes speaking and he sits them on the bed. He takes them apart to make it easier for Frank and stands there with his hands on his hips. "Where are your shoes?"

"Closet. Black chucks please?"

Gerard chuckles and nods as he goes over to the closet to fish them out.

"This is why being blind sucks."

"Why?"

"Because you are bending over and I can't check out your ass," Frank jokes and laughs when Gerard stands up quickly. Frank knows because Gerard's head shoots up. Gerard is glad for a split second that Frank is blind, because he just turned a bright red.

"Oh man. Got them. Are you sure you don't need help?" Gerard asks as he sits the shoes down.

"I'm sure. If I do, I will call for my mother. You can go now," Frank stands up and starts pushing Gerard towards the door.

"Okay, okay. You're going to push me through it," Gerard opens the door and steps out of the room. "Don't keep me waiting too long."

"Yeah yeah," Frank says and shuts the door in Gerard's face.

Frank exhales loudly and runs his fingers through his hair. He didn't think he'd get the chance to breathe properly again. Frank walks over to his bed and sits down. He begins to wonder why he said yes to Gerard taking him out. Is this going to be considered a date or just going out to eat? Frank is in some deep shit, he knows he can't just drop Gerard now.

Gerard sits at the table and thanks Frank's mother for the mug of coffee she hands him. She disregards his thanks and sits at the table across from him. She sips her own coffee and then places it in front of herself, clearing her throat.

"So, why are you out here with me?" she asks.

"Oh, Frank's getting dressed," Gerard replies.

"Dressed? Are you two going somewhere?"

"Yes. I'm taking him out to dinner. That is if it's okay with you," Gerard adds quickly when Frank's mothers’ eyes widen comically.

"That's fine with me I guess, I just can't actually believe it's okay with Frank. What are you doing to my son?"

Gerard shrugs and chuckles nervously, "To be completely honest I'm surprised he said yes too."

"You listen here, Gerard, and you listen good, okay?" Gerard nods and she continues, "Whatever you have in mind for you and my son is none of my business. It will, however, become my business if you hurt him. Do you understand that?" She asks raising her brows condescendingly at Gerard.

"It was never in my plans to hurt Frank. I just want to make him happy, because he makes _me_ happy," Gerard answers truthfully.

She smiles and shakes her head.

"What is it Ms. Iero?"

"I just never thought I'd see the day where someone would be willing to get to know Frank on an intimate level," She states. Gerard nods understandingly. 

She must've seen the look on Gerard's face because she holds up her hand and begins speaking again, "I don't mean it the way you think. My son is handsome, I know that, but he's also blind. People are horrible in this world where they make people like him a target. It's a shame that they don't think blind people have feelings too. People treat my son like crap, albeit I know his mouth has a part in it, but some of the things they do just isn't acceptable even after he speaks a few harsh words. Not many people chase after the blind, cynical kid the way you’re doing, ya know? Not everyone understands him, because they don't try to. So forgive me if I didn't think my son could ever find someone in whatever way you like him."

"His smart mouth gives me life. I love it. He's funny and charming in his own cynical way. He is handsome, beautiful if you will. Basically, I just want to be in his life. You're probably thinking it's odd, because it's so soon, but there's just something about him. I hope this doesn't sound bad, but I'm glad no one tried to understand him, because then I probably wouldn't be taking him out tonight. He doesn't want to be with me, but I'm hoping I can change that."

"Oh Gerard," she chuckles, "He wants to be with you, okay? Stevie Wonder could see that. Shit, Frank can, that's probably why he acts like he doesn't. He doesn't want to want you. Surely you've seen this before. My boy has been through a lot. He doesn't let people in easily, but here you are, and that probably scares him. You aren't just offering friendship, you want him as a partner, and he's never had that before. Just give it time." She pats Gerard on his hand and he smiles warmly at her.

"Thanks Ms. I, you're pretty cool."

"You just remember what I said and I'll stay cool."

"I got it."

They both turn when they hear Frank curse and hit the wall with his cane, as if trying to get around. Frank's mother screws up her face, because Frank is pretty good with the hallway already, so what’s up? He appears seconds later and she sees what the problem is.

"Need help there honey?" she goes to stand, but Gerard stops her.

"You rest, I got this," he whispers and she almost melts. She whispers a thank you back.

"The strings keep getting tangled. They're somehow tangled in here. Looped wrong or something, I don't know. I should've just gone with my vans," Frank says annoyed.

Gerard stands up and walks over to him. He can tell how upset Frank is and it hurts his heart a little. He doesn't like when Frank isn't smiling, it bothers him a lot. Gerard only wants to see Frank smile.

"It's okay, Frankie. My stupid laces get tangled all the time," Gerard says.

"Yeah, but you don't have to go to your mom to help you, and you don't bump along shit to get there," Frank says angrily.

"Do you want me to buy you a pair of converse without the laces?" Gerard asks and Frank looks down, following the sound of his voice.

"That's possible?"

"Yeah. They're designed to not need shoe laces," Gerard explains.

"Sounds cool. My mom could invest in them for me."

"Gerard came up with it, I think you should let him get them for you baby," she cuts in.

"Is that your way of saying you don't want to buy me new shoes?" Frank accuses.

"Of course not, Frankie. Gerard just wants to help."

"God, I don't want any help! I just want these fucking shoes..." Frank stomps his foot angrily and makes his way over to a chair, awkwardly trying to avoid falling over his laces, and Gerard. Frank's mother looks at him worriedly, but Gerard gives her a reassuring smile. He somewhat knows how to deal with Frank's outbursts by now.

"Hey, you know who else hates laces?" Gerard asks.

Frank sighs and shakes his head, "I'm sure you're going to tell me."

"Mhmm. Superheroes. Think about it for a second. Have you ever seen any superheroes that had shoes that requires shoe laces when they're in costume?"

"I suppose I haven't."

"Exactly. That's another thing we can add to the list of why you'd make a cool superhero."

"Maybe I'll carry shoe laces around to shoe stores, and choke out each salesmen who doesn't try to persuade people to pick the ones without laces," Frank says.

"There you go. Can I be your sidekick?" Gerard asks as he starts to untangle Frank's shoe lace discreetly.

"I'll have to think about it."

Ms. Iero watches the whole exchange and smiles. She has never seen Frank calm down so quickly when he gets frustrated about needing help, or when things just aren't going accordingly.

"Oh come on, you know you want me on your team," Gerard teases and starts tying Frank's sneakers.

"I guess you could help out, but you'll have to do everything I say. That's just the way it has to be."

"You're the boss of this operation," Gerard jokes and Frank smiles.

"Right now I'm going to tell you that you have to get my coat. Are we walking or taking public transportation?" Frank asks, just now realizing Gerard doesn't have his car.

"Why would we do either of those things?" Gerard finishes the last knot on Frank's shoes and stands up.

"Well Brendon drove you here and I don't see, well _hear_ Brendon anywhere."

"Frankie, Frankie, Frankie,” Gerard coos, “Brendon drove Mikey here. I drove my own car."

"Let me get this straight. You asked Mikey to do you a favor, but he had to get his own ride to do that favor for you?" Frank's baffled to say the least.

"Well, yeah."

"That's low."

"I don't like people in my car," Gerard says as if it's a no brainer.

"So why is this about to be my second time in your car?" Frank raises a brow at Gerard.

"You're not just people."

"Mikey's your brother."

"You're Frankie."

"So?"

Ms. Iero laughs quietly when Gerard puts his hand in his hair and tugs lightly.

"I guess you could say I like you on a different level than I like my brother. I want you next to me at all times, including in my car," Gerard sighs and places his hands on his hips.

"I still don't understand why."

"I'll explain it to you on the way to dinner or over dinner," Gerard puts his hand out for Frank, and Frank feels the movement. He even accepts to everyone's astonishment.

"What time will you be home, Frankie?" she asks.

"Shit!" Frank jumps and looks over at his mom. He snatches his hand from Gerard when he realizes she's watching, and scratches the back of his neck with it instead. "You have to make yourself known mother."

"Oh Frankie, you always know when someone's in the room. It must be pretty serious huh?"

"What?" Frank asks in confusion.

"You usually hear every little thing going on in a room, but you were oblivious to me still being in here. Have you found someone to take you off your game?"

"Oh mom please! I just... forgot. That’s all," Frank grimaces.

Frank's mother laughs and stands up, "I'm just saying son. So, what time shall I be expecting you back?"

“When Gerard drops me back off, that’s when I’ll be back,” Frank says, and then he reaches out to find Gerard, nearly hitting him in the nose.

“Ow,” Gerard says.

“Sorry, you’re shorter than I anticipated,” Frank replies, and tries to push Gerard in the general direction of the front door without pushing him into any furniture.

“Says you,” Gerard replies, frowning. He allows Frank to try to push him, but he’s not good at maneuvering, so eventually, Gerard just rolls his eyes and stops before Frank pushes him into something. “How about the guy with eyes leads the way.”

“Lead the way, Way.”

Gerard smiles and pulls Frank to stand beside him, where he then puts an arm around his waist. That is way too close for Frank though, judging by the way he squeals, and then pushes Gerard off of him.

“Sorry, Frankie,” Gerard says, opening the front door for him. Frank can’t see the guy, but he is positive that Gerard doesn’t look sorry at all.

“Yeah right,” Frank says, putting his cane out in front of him and stepping out of the house.

“Bye Frank!” his mother calls, and he pretends not to hear her. He does obviously. Frank’s got good ears.

“So where are you taking me?” Frank asks.

“Probably somewhere I can’t afford.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because you’re worth the crippling debt I’m about to put myself in,” Gerard replies, leading Frank to his car. Gerard gets the door for him, either because Frank is blind, or because that’s what a gentleman does on a first date. Probably both. 

“This is not a date,” Frank declares, before he steps into the passenger’s seat. He’s trying to look at where Gerard’s eyes are, but he can’t see Gerard very well with the way that the shadow of the house is blocking most of the light.

“Call it what you will,” Gerard shrugs, and closes the door. He rushes around to the other side of the car, and sits down next to Frank.

“It’s not a date,” Frank mumbles again.

“No. It’s just two guys, one of whom who may like the other, and one of them definitely likes the other, who are getting dinner together.”

“I don’t like you.”

“No, but you’re kind of attracted to me,” Gerard says, and he starts the car.

“I can’t even see you,” Frank says.

“You don’t have to see me to be attracted to me.”

“Isn’t that, like the definition of the word?” Frank questions. Gerard shakes his head, and turns a corner, off of Frank’s street.

“Not technically. I guess that it’s one definition of the word, but that’s more of an aesthetic definition. You just find me alluring.”

“You’re cocky as fuck.”

“I’m not,” Gerard smirks, “but I’m not an idiot.”

“No, but you’re about as blind as I am if you think I like you.”

“Alright. Say whatever you want. Deny as much as you like. You’re not fooling anyone, Frank.”

“Would you just, ugh. I don’t know. Just... I hate you.”

“Sure.”

“I do,” Frank says.

“Frank, you’re smiling,” Gerard says looking at him, and matching his expression.

“No, I’m not,” Frank says, covering his mouth.

“Yes, Frank. Yes you are.”

Frank shakes his head, “no. I’m just... really proud of my gums.”

“You’re gums?”

“Yep,” Frank replies, “my gums are fantastic.”

“And your teeth are bright and shiny,” Gerard says.

“Are they?” Frank asks, and he runs his tongue along the back of his teeth. He can’t exactly tell what they look like though.

“They’re very bright,” Gerard says, chuckling. He’s not sure he fully understands what this conversation is even about.

“Brighter than your personality.”

“Hey!” Gerard says, but Frank is smiling even wider now. Gerard decides that if Frank teasing him is the easiest way to make him smile, than Frank can call him as many names as he likes. Gerard would even make him a list of names. Anything to see him smile.

“Gerard, can I ask you a real question?” Frank asks, changing the atmosphere in the car like a whip.

“Yeah?”

“Why are you so intent on getting close to me?”

Gerard stumbles for a moment, trying to find the right words, but he’s not sure they’re there, “I just... I don’t know, I just like you.”

“But why?”

“Because I do.”

“That’s not an answer,” Frank says.

“It’s the same answer you gave me earlier,” Gerard points out.

“Yeah but you know why already.”

“Do I?”

“I don’t get close to people, Gerard! Never! I don’t do that. I haven’t even talked this much to anyone besides my mother in practically ten years. No one cares enough to talk to me, for one thing, and I wouldn’t care to talk with someone who did talk to me.”

“But you’ve been talking to me.”

“Because you’re so damn pushy,” Frank says, folding his arms across his chest.

“You sure that’s the reason?” Gerard asks. He’s tempted to remind Frank of all the times he’s tried reassuring Frank that he’s not forcing him into anything. Gerard’s made it abundantly clear with everything he’s said to Frank, that he’s not telling the boy what to do. He always gives Frank the other option, the one to walk away, but Frank so far hasn’t taken that option. Frank’s made every single move he _can_ to be nearer to Gerard. That’s not all in Gerard’s head, he’s sure of it, some part of Frank, maybe a part that’s unconsciously aware of it, is trying to get close.

“I don’t want to get close to people,” Frank says.

“If you want me to, I’ll take you home right now,” Gerard says quietly. He doesn’t want that in the slightest, but if Frank wants him to, he’ll do as asked. He’s not going to force Frank into anything. He’s been too steadfast on that principle, he’s not going to eat those words now.

Frank sets his face into a frown, trying to convince himself to pluck up the courage to tell Gerard to take him home. He doesn’t want that, but he knows that’s what he should say. He should tell Gerard to take him home. He should tell Gerard to stop trying to get close to him. He should get the hell away from this guy who has a cute tinny laugh, and an alarming talent for harmonizing with the radio station. That’s what he _should_ do.

“No, I want to go to dinner,” Frank says, and curses himself internally. Why does he have no balls to tell Gerard to piss off? This is just insane. He needs to just say no to him, but he doesn’t want to say no.

“I’m glad,” Gerard replies.

“For the free food,” Frank clarifies, even though that’s not true. They both know it’s not true, but Gerard doesn’t point it out. Why would he? He’d just make Frank even more uncomfortable with his own emotions. 

"Since I am going to dinner with you though I want a true reason for why you like me," Frank looks in Gerard's direction. 

Gerard sighs and nods to Frank with a small smile on his face, "Okay, Frankie. I'll try my best."

Frank smiles sweetly and turns his attention back to the road. Gerard stares at Frank a little while longer before pressing down on the pedal. 

When they arrive at the restaurant, Gerard rushes out of the car to get Frank's door for him. Frank pushes the door out swiftly and hits Gerard in his privates with the handle. 

"Fuck, Frank! What the hell is up with you? I'm just opening the damn door, not proposing!" Gerard yells angrily. He can deal with Frank's words, but Frank hitting him in his nuts is an entirely different thing. 

"Calm down. I didn't know you were there," Frank lies. He’d heard Gerard's light footsteps against the gravel. "And you know you yelling at me isn't going to make me fall to my knees and kiss it better." Frank sasses and walks away from Gerard, but close to the car for support on where to go. 

Gerard stands there blinking away the image of Frank on his knees anywhere. The last thing he needs is the urge to get in Frank's anything. It makes him feel like a pervert a little bit. He closes the car door and rushes over to Frank. Gerard takes Frank's hand in one of his and places his other hand on the small of Frank's back. 

"High step up," Gerard instructs and Frank complies. 

"Thanks," Frank replies softly. "So where are we?"

"An Indian spot. Is that fine?" Gerard asks. 

"Do they have food?" Frank asks in a slightly sarcastic tone. 

"Yes."

"Okay then, this is just fine." 

Gerard stops Frank at the entrance and opens the door for him. 

"There's a clear walkway," Gerard tells Frank so he knows it's okay to just walk. Gerard rushes in behind Frank, and lets the door close. 

They get a booth and sit down near the back of the restaurant. The place is dimly lit which makes Frank cringe. One, it's just a tad too intimate for a ‘not date’, and two, he can barely see in here. Frank slides into the booth with Gerard’s unwanted help, and then he sits on the opposite side of Frank. 

"You look amazing in this lighting."

"Oh shut up, Gerard. Just read me the menu please and thank you. I'd like to get this over with as soon as possible."

"Wow. I'm going to pretend that didn't just hurt my heart," Gerard says. 

"I meant so I can get your explanation on why you like me," Frank elaborates. 

"It still sucks that you're only going through with this because you're on a mission for an answer."

Frank sighs and wishes he could roll his eyes at Gerard, "I kind of want to be here."

"That's better than nothing," Gerard says with a smile on his face. 

Frank and Gerard order their food, and within half an hour, they have their plates. They both dig in and enjoy all of their meal. They even make jokes with each other and keep laughing. They’re really enjoying themselves together. Frank forgets to keep his shield up for most of it.

"This was some of the best food I've had in a long time. Don't tell my mother I said that though," Frank says seriously. 

"Your secret's safe with me," Gerard does a small salute to Frank although he can't see him. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

Gerard orders dessert for them and then pays the tab. He helps Frank with his coat and puts on his own before walking out with Frank around his arm. There are a few stares in their direction, but nothing worse than that, and Gerard’s glad. He doesn't want Frank's dinner ruined in any way. 

They walk out into the night air and they’re hit instantly with flurries of snow. They walk slowly towards the car and Gerard sneaks a chance at holding Frank's hand. Frank stiffens, but doesn't pull away. He slowly starts to breathe again the longer Gerard holds his hand. 

"So are you going to tell me why you like me now?" Frank asks, “You’ve been avoiding the subject for an hour.”

Gerard gives it a thought for a little while longer, trying to put his words together the best he can. 

"There's just something about you. The first time I saw you I was glad there was nowhere else to sit. Your cynicism was a bit welcoming too. I’ve never met someone with your kind of wit. You have, like, your own brand of sarcasm. It's refreshing. You're funny and you're very _very_ attractive. Plus, you have those badass Men in Black sunglasses, how could I resist?" Gerard chuckles and Frank laughs. "See? That right there... your laugh, brings happiness to me. Your smile lights up a room. I'd even go as far as saying a city. You light up my world, in a sense. To be put in corny words."

Gerard stops at the car and takes Frank's other hand in his, ignoring Frank's cane. He looks down at Frank and smiles. The look on Frank's face is one of confusion and it makes Gerard want to laugh. Frank just got an explanation and Gerard can tell he’s on the verge of asking for another one. Frank furrows his brows even more and tilts his head to the side; Gerard will never tire of seeing him do that. 

"I don't get why though Gerard. Why the blind kid?" Frank asks and it breaks Gerard's heart. 

"You being blind was never a factor, Frank. If anything, it's a blessing so you can't see what a loser I am."

"I can hear what a loser you are," Frank jokes with a pleasant smile on his face.

Gerard runs his index finger along one of Frank's smile lines, "I just want to be a part of what makes you smile like this." 

Gerard leans forward and places a soft peck to Frank's cheek. Frank gasps lightly and looks up at where Gerard should be. He's pretty good with estimating his height now and he knows Gerard's still leaning forward a little. Frank stands there frozen in his spot and not because of the new fallen snow. Gerard holds Frank's chin and leans into his ear. 

"Do you want to go home now?"

Frank’s heart is racing, and everything in his head is spinning like a top. Most of his thoughts are the kind that would force his mother to buy him a lifetime supply of soap. 

The first thing that pops into Frank’s head at Gerard’s words is, ‘your place or mine?’ but then he realizes that he’s a blind virgin who’s never kissed anybody. Talk about a kick in the nuts.

“I-” is the only thing Frank is capable of saying.

“Yes or no would work,” Gerard says.

“Well where would we go if I said no?” Frank asks, and immediately regrets it.

“I don’t know,” Gerard says, “just somewhere.”

“I’m, uh, I’m cold,” Frank says as an excuse to evade the situation for at least a few seconds. He scrambles for the door handle and pulls it open, not sure if he’s going to hit Gerard with it again, or whether he wants that to happen or not.

A minute later Frank hears Gerard enter the car. It took him longer than Frank would’ve expected from a guy who can see, but he decides not to ask what took so long. He hears the car start with beeping from the dashboard, and he furrows his eyebrows.

“Where are we going?”

“Nowhere at the moment, I’m just turning the heat on. You said you were cold,” Gerard says.

“Oh.”

“You’ve asked me a lot of questions tonight, Frank,” Gerard says, “it’s time I ask one for myself.”

Frank’s only thought is ‘uh oh,’ but he huffs and gestures for Gerard to go ahead and ask whatever it is he has to ask.

“You’re so adamant to stay away from me,” Gerard starts, “Avoid liking me, or whatever it is you think you’re doing, and ultimately failing.”

“I’m not failing!”

“Just hear me out. So you don’t want to like me, right, because you don’t want to get close to people, because people are always hurting you, but Frank, what makes you think I’m going to hurt you? Why would I do that kind of a thing? I mean, obviously, I’ve owned up to it. You want me to make an official statement? I like you, Frank. Like, I like you in an ‘it’s going to kill me if we’re just friend’s' sort of way. I like you. There. You happy? So I’ve clarified that as much as I can, but you still don’t... ugh, I don’t even know. You don’t believe me? You don’t believe that I’m not out to hurt you? I’m not! I don’t want to hurt you. Frank, your mother is scary, I’m not stupid enough to cross her by hurting her son. I’m not going to hurt you, and that’s my guarantee. So why won’t you let me get close?”

“Just because,” Frank says.

“That’s not an answer.”

“It is though,” Frank replies.

“It isn’t!” Gerard says, “We’ve been trading that explanation off for the past few hours, but it doesn’t _mean_ anything. You didn’t answer my question!”

“Well if you don’t like the answer,” Frank says, “ask a different question.”

“Fine. Are you ever going to move past this stubborn thing you have going and just admit to yourself that you’re not as emotionless as you try to be? I don’t want you to start thinking I’m arrogant, okay? That’s not what I want. So I won’t make this about me, but I’ll make it about Mikey. Or Brendon. Or those other two guys, Pete and Patrick. You can tell yourself whatever you like, Frank, but we both know they’re your friends. Putting off the use of that term doesn’t _change_ anything. Striking oil and calling it water doesn’t change the chemistry of what’s there. You’re not fooling anyone, you’re just lying. You’re calling the oil water, when oil is going to make you a million times richer.”

“I think you should take me home now,” Frank states.

“This time you really didn’t answer my question.”

“You’re right. And I’m not gonna,” Frank replies.

“Fair enough,” Gerard huffs, starting the car.

The drive back is excruciatingly quiet. Gerard can literally hear the silence, which isn’t possible, but he can.

Neither of them even make the attempt to start talking until Gerard stops the car in front of Frank’s house. He parks it, but doesn’t turn off the car, because it’ll get really cold, really fast if he does.

“I pissed you off, didn’t I?” Gerard asks, sounding slightly broken.

Frank doesn’t respond.

“I didn’t mean to. I really fucking didn’t. God, I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t mean to piss you off or make you angry. I crossed a line. I shouldn’t have done that. I feel fucking awful,” Gerard says, putting his head in his hands.

“Yeah, you crossed a line,” Frank finally says.

“I know, and I’m sorry. I’m so sor-”

“But you were right.”

“I was?” 

“Yeah,” Frank says.

“Can you expand upon what you mean?”

“Nope,” Frank says, pushing the car door open, “Thanks for the free food.”

“Yeah,” Gerard says, looking at Frank confused. He stops the car to walk Frank to the door, and he’s way more than just surprised when Frank doesn’t tell him not to. He doesn’t say ‘I know my way’ or anything of the sort. He just sort of stands and waits there for Gerard. 

Frank lets Gerard walk him to the door, but stops him before he enters the house.

“So,” Gerard says, “I have to work tomorrow.”

“At the mall,” Frank says.

“Yeah,” Gerard nods, “that’s where I work.”

“I know. And you have the obligation to buy me coffee if I ever visit you there, right?” Frank asks.

“Uh, I guess.”

“Well than you might be seeing me,” Frank says, grabbing the doorknob, “but I’m not going to be seeing you, obviously.”

Gerard grins, “You know, that’s never going to get old.”

“I don’t see why it would,” Frank says and then laughs. 

“So, uh, one last question before I let you go,” Gerard says and Frank nods for him to go on, “if you accept that calling your friends acquaintances doesn’t make any sense, does that mean I’m your friend?”

“No,” Frank says resolutely.

“Oh,” Gerard says, the hopefulness draining from his voice swiftly.

“I’m not too sure what you are yet,” Frank finishes, “but certainly ‘friend’ is too mild a word.”

Gerard’s eyes widen a little and he looks at Frank exasperatedly, and starts, “whoa, wait. What does that mean-”

“Goodnight,” Frank says with a small grin as he closes the door on Gerard before he can say anything more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can unbuckle now. And then comment.


	15. Considering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So there's a lesson on Greek mythology in this chapter.

Frank wakes up early Sunday morning because he can’t convince himself to stay asleep. He tells himself it’s not because he’s excited to see Gerard, but even he knows that’s a giant lie. Of course he wants to see the guy. Well he isn’t actually going to be seeing anyone, but he wants to be in the same vicinity as Gerard, even though seeing him is out of the question.

Frank stays in his room, trying to go back to bed for what feels like an hour, but he’s not sure. He didn’t attempt to find out what time it was when he woke up so it’s anyone’s guess. He just lies there, rolling around in the sheets, trying to pretend he can’t smell Gerard’s shampoo on his pillow.

That’s how he’d gone to bed the night previously. With his head stuffed into the pillow trying to memorize that smell. He thinks, at this point, that he’d recognize the smell of Gerard’s shampoo anywhere, and he would be able to sniff it out like a bloodhound from some ways away. It’s different to the smell that he’d previously encountered off of Gerard, which would have something to do with the fact that he changed his whole shampoo brand because of the dye. And the dye of course was because of Frank. So really, when he thinks about it, it’s because of Frank that his own pillow smells like Gerard’s shampoo.

The shampoo itself isn’t exciting. It smells like chemicals that are trying to smell pleasant, but just aren’t doing their best. There’s no real distinction in the scent, it doesn’t seem to be trying to smell like flowers or fruit or anything, it just is what it is. Frank likes to imagine Gerard smelling like a comic book. He imagines the smell of the paper the pages are printed on, as well as the scent of the ink. That’s kind of how he likes to think of Gerard.

Gerard also has that voice that’s unique to him. It doesn’t really sound like anyone else’s, which just means his is special. Frank doesn’t know why he’s attached to the way Gerard’s voice sounds, or why he likes it so much, but he knows he does. It’s probably because Frank has memorized most voices by now, and Gerard’s is still new to him. As are Patrick’s, Pete’s, Mikey’s, and Brendon’s voices, but there’s a major difference. None of them are Gerard. 

It’s not that they’re not nice people, but they will never be Gerard. Maybe it’s because Gerard was the first person he met in this tiny shitty town, or maybe Gerard really is just more special to him, but he’s got the nicest sounding voice out of the lot of them.

“Frank, I know you’re awake,” his mother calls.

“I’m not awake!” He shouts back.

“So who am I talking to?”

“A murderer who happens to be able to steal people’s voices. Or something like that, I mean, it’s early, I’m not creative this early.”

“Do you want breakfast?”

Frank thinks for a moment before deciding that food sounds like a good idea right now when his stomach growls at him. He calls back that he would very much like breakfast, and then tries to get out of bed up for another five minutes.

His body is too comfortable to get up without a fight, but eventually he does manage to stand up. After patting his hair down enough so that it won’t look like he’s got a nest of bees up there, Frank makes his way out of his room and towards the kitchen.

“How’d you know I was up?” he asks.

“I have a sixth sense,” his mother replies.

“Well that’s nice because I only have four senses,” Frank says.

“Oh, watch your mouth.”

“What’d I even say? I just said the truth! I only have the four senses. Well, that, and the sense of dance, but it’s not up to par.”

“Are you going to tell me how your date went?”

“It was not a date,” Frank asserts, sitting down at the table while his mother cooks. He really would like to help, honestly he would love to have the opportunity to help her make breakfast, but he’s not allowed to. He tried once and ended up burning his hand. Ever since then, Frank’s not allowed to even stand near the stove if it’s on. He would love to at least have the option, but he’s not granted that.

“What was it if not a date then?” she asks.

“Just a, I don’t know. It was dinner. A date would imply that I like Gerard. Why does everyone think I like Gerard?”

“Because you do.”

“Why does everyone think that though?” Frank asks, “Do I have this aura that just comes off as super gay for Gerard or something?”

“You act differently around Gerard, that’s all.”

“Well I don’t try. I mean, what am I doing? I don’t have any feelings towards him. Or maybe I do, but that’s no one’s damn business but my own.”

“I didn’t say it was, but I’m curious,” his mother says, “You don’t have to tell me. It’s not like you got in trouble at school, _that’s_ something you have to tell me about.”

“I just, I don’t know, he’s Gerard. He’s a giant fucking dork, and he’s a little clingy. He’s a little in love with himself in a really subtle way. It’s like he expects me to like him, when I have no real obligation to, but he just assumes I do.”

“I don’t think the word you’re looking for is arrogance, Frank. I don’t think he’s in love with himself at all, I just think Gerard is better at knowing what’s going on in your head than you are. As far as his place is concerned, he’s not in the business of denying away everything you’re denying, Frank.”

“What makes you the Gerard expert?” Frank asks.

“I’m not an expert, Frank. I just know my boy.”

Frank groans, and puts his head in his arms on the table, “Maybe I like him. So what? If I did, and I’m not saying I do, I wouldn’t tell my mom about it.”

“But that doesn’t mean I can’t infer it for myself,” she responds.

About an hour later, while Frank is slouching into the folds of the couch, listening to the news that his mother is watching, he’s trying to find anyway to ask if they can go to the mall that doesn’t sound like a plea to see Gerard. He’s also trying to figure out why adults are always so fascinated with the weather. What’s the purpose of the fucking weather channel? Why can’t they just go outside and figure it out for themselves?

“What time is it?” Frank finally asks.

“Nine. Why?” she responds, and Frank just shrugs. It’s only nine in the morning? That must mean he woke up earlier than he’d thought. He has to sit here for another few hours until it’s acceptable to visit Gerard without it verging on creepy. Honestly though, he’d rather spend hours talking to Gerard than sitting here _thinking_ about talking to him.

“Is there anything else on?” Frank asks, “I think I got the message twenty minutes ago that there’s going to be a light sprinkle of snow on Tuesday. And the temperature might get higher on Wednesday causing some snow to melt. And on Thursday, temperatures will keep increasing. Oh, and you can’t forget about Friday where it’s going to start getting cold again to make for a cold weekend. Plot twist!”

“Alright smartass, what do you want to watch?”

“Well I would love to watch anything, anything at all, but seeing as that’s impossible, I’d be fine with listening to anything that isn’t the fucking weather.”

Frank’s got this theory that no matter what time of day it is, or no matter what time of the year it is, you will always be able to find at least one channel playing the movie How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. He’s not wrong today either, as his mom flips through channels, he hears a snippet of dialogue from the movie, which he’s only technically ever seen or listened to once when his mother was watching it. As it turns out, he doesn’t like that movie, so why does every channel in the world think people want to watch it? Frank is also pretty sure that there’s always a marathon of Seinfeld playing if you look hard enough.

They settle on neither of these things, but instead on what sounds like to Frank, an action movie with Will Smith. He’s always considered movies to be for everyone, because, really, you’re not missing all that much if you can’t see it. It’s not that hard to figure out what’s going on. He still wishes he could see what was going on, because sometimes he’s got to ask what he’s missing, but it’s not the worst thing in the world.

It’s actually a lot easier to remember actors by their voices rather than their faces, or at least, Frank thinks so. He wouldn’t know any actors by their faces if he could miraculously see all of a sudden, but their voices are easy. They’re easier to distinguish by character if you can remember a voice.

Eventually the movie does end, and Frank’s pretty sure that another movie is starting up on the TV when his mom asks him if he’s ready for lunch. He hadn’t realized how long the movie was until now.

“Uh, could we, maybe, uh, go to the mall or something?”

“Why?”

“Just, uh, I don’t know,” he says.

“Does Gerard work at the mall?”

Frank stutters, “I, he might. I don’t know, how should I know?”

“Well does he or doesn’t he?” his mother asks.

Frank sighs, because he knows he’s not going to win this one and he finally says, “Yeah, alright. Gerard works in the comic store.”

“I see.”

“I don’t,” Frank jokes.

“Frank.”

“Sorry.”

“I suppose,” his mother says, and Frank doesn’t show it, but secretly he’s really happy, and internally he’s pumping his fist in the air. Frank can’t help himself from grinning a little bit though. He knows his mother can tell.

“Great,” Frank tries to say nonchalantly. 

“You can’t expect Gerard to always pay for your food though, Frank. We’ll eat first, got it?”

“Yeah, okay,” Frank says. He’ll still get to hang out with Gerard, and if they leave a little later, than he won’t seem too desperate. He is desperate, make no mistake, but at least this way it won’t look that way as much.

Frank's mother leaves him in the living room to go start on lunch. Frank's mind instantly begins to wander onto thoughts about Gerard. He shakes his head and stands up. Enough sitting around thinking about Gerard, it’s now veering on the brink of weird. If anyone asks, Gerard has never been on his mind. 

Frank collapses on his bed, having walked there during his thoughts, and sighs loudly. He doesn't know what to do to stop his mind from reeling. He could listen to music, but that'd only make him think about Gerard, because they have the same music taste. Frank shrugs and stands up to walk back out to the kitchen. He hits the doorway with his cane once he's there to get his mother's attention. 

"Talking helps you know, Frank," she says in a bored tone. 

"I know, but I wanted to do it that way."

"I'm not an animal or one of your friends. When you want my attention you simply speak. Got it?"

"Got it. So anyway, could you hook up my radio for me, and find my Misfits album. I'd do it, but you know... I'm blind," Frank says with a sarcastic chuckle and points to his glasses. 

"I could do that for you if you don't make any more blind jokes for the remainder of this day."

"Mom..."

"Frank..."

"That isn't fair," Frank argues. 

"Life isn't fair," she snaps back at him. 

"The remainder of the day? That's harsh mom." 

"It's one day Frank. Either way, that's the requirement. Now deal or no deal?"

"Usually there's a better deal being presented. I've listened to the show. I think you're cheating me."

"I'm going to get back to lunch now."

"Deal," Frank sighs angrily. 

"Good. Go on to your room while I get your radio," his mother says, the smirk evident in her voice. 

"Need help carrying that?"

"You asked me that when we packed it. The answer is still the same. I got this, Frankie. If there's anything I've acquired from you being blind it's strength; in more ways than one," Frank's mother chuckles and turns to him when he doesn't say anything back. Upon investigating the sad look on his face, she says, "Oh honey, I didn't mean that in a bad way." 

"Could you just..." Frank gestures towards where he knows some of the boxes are piled neatly in the living room and walks to his room. 

Frank's mother sighs and wipes her hands on her apron. She rushes out of the kitchen, just catching Frank turning to go into his bedroom. She sighs again and changes her direction. She goes into the living room and stoops down, searching through a few boxes until she finds Frank's albums. She pushes that box to the side and then looks in the box next to it.

There is where she finds his stereo. She stands up and picks up the box containing said stereo. She walks to Frank's room, and kicks the door open wider as she enters, and walks straight to his dresser to sit it down. She looks at Frank laying down in his bed, curled up innocently. He isn't sleeping, she can tell by his breathing, but he doesn't want to be bothered. 

His mother knows him very well, and whenever he curls up like that he's either sleeping, or wants to be left alone. She thinks of all the times when he would lay like that, and she would slide into the bed next to him and just hold him until he was okay or sleeping. She leaves the room and goes to get his albums. She takes them back to the room and sits the box on the floor. She sits down and starts searching through the box. 

Once she finds the one she's looking for, she puts it into the stereo and turns it on. She adjusts the volume to something she can stand while being in the same room and walks over to Frank's bed. She hears him sigh as she slides into bed behind him and wraps her arm around Frank. She uses her other hand to card her fingers through Frank's soft locks. She kisses his head and holds him tighter. 

Frank lets his mother hold him while fighting with his feelings inside of his head. He knows his mother loves him, he truly does, but sometimes he knows she needs a break, but can't get one. He's not upset with her, he's mostly upset with himself. He's the reason she has to do everything on her own. He's the reason she barely gets out to meet people. 

It's his fault she'll possibly die alone, because she's always taking care of Frank, or worrying about him. Frank thinks maybe he should just give in and let Gerard into his life. If he wants his mom to have a life, he'll need to let someone else into his. Friends can be there for him through the day, and eventually, if he goes the distance with Gerard, he'll be there for him at night and always. He could give his mother back her life and give her a chance at true happiness. 

Of course Frank isn't just going to do a whole 360 and be inviting to everyone, but he should try to let people in. It isn't fair that he's taking his mother's life from her. Sure she made the decision to have a child, which means whatever came with it she has to deal with, but she was never supposed to have a _blind_ child. Things just happened, and it wasn't her fault at all. 

"I'm okay mom. I'm not upset with you," Frank says softly. 

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, I just want to get to the mall," Frank answers honestly. 

"Okay. I'll go finish lunch then. I love you."

"I love you too mom," Frank says. He takes his mother's hand in his and kisses it. 

She smiles down at her boy and then slides out of the bed. Frank listens as his mother raises the volume for him, and closes his room door when she leaves. Frank rolls onto his back and folds his hands behind his head. He closes his eyes and listens to the music. He lets the waves move through him from the instruments. 

His mind begins to wander again, but this time it's to thoughts of Gerard taking him to a concert. He imagines what it will feel like being in a packed room, pressed against Gerard in a crowd, enjoying the loud pumping of the music. The way his heart would pump to the bass of the drums. The feeling he'd get when listening to Gerard singing along with the band on stage. This is everything he wants at the moment, but also he doesn't want that. 

He doesn't want to imagine being at a show with Gerard. Why can't he just imagine being at a show by himself or with associates? Here he is again lessening his relationship with the guys he met and Gerard already, after only ten minutes. Frank knows he needs to get himself together.

If he doesn’t get himself together soon, it’s going to be too late. He’s going to be just another guy who smiles too much and lets people walk all over him. He’s short as it is, he doesn’t need to give people even more of a reason to step all over him.

Frank’s lost in the idea of everything though. He’s lost in the idea of not having to live with his mother for the rest of his life. He’s lost in the idea of not being a burden, but then again, he’s going to be a burden no matter who it is he’s with. He’ll be a burden with his mother, or Gerard, or anyone else. There’s nothing he can do to stop being pathetic and useless.

“Frank!” his mother calls from the kitchen and Frank groans. He’s hungry though, and he wants to leave as soon as possible. He’s not so sure why anymore.

For some reason, seeing Gerard just feels like an escape to him. Being near the guy makes him forget, just for a little while, that he’s messed up. Makes him forget that he’s not just a blind waste of space who can’t do anything. Gerard makes him feel human, if only for a little while.

He pulls himself up though and makes his way to the kitchen to eat. Frank’s not really paying attention too much of anything, he’s just trying to eat so that his stomach will stop reminding him that it’s empty.

“Frank, don’t eat so fast or you’ll make yourself sick.”

“Will I really or is that just an urban myth that mothers tell other mothers so that they get to boss their kids around? Do you need me to wait half an hour before I go swimming to?”

“Frank,” she sighs.

“Hey, it wasn’t a blind joke,” Frank says as a defense.

“I guess you’re right, but I am still your mother.”

Frank shrugs and finishes eating, making sure to chew a little slower because he’s not in the mood to piss his mother off and be denied going to the mall. He’s pretty sure she’s not above that. Frank tries to relax himself. Cool the itching he has to talk to Gerard again for just a little bit longer.

“Ready to go?” she asks, what feels like a century later, though Frank knows it was probably ten minutes, or maybe even less.

“Yep!” Frank says, standing up too quickly and almost falling over due to lack of balance.

“Don’t look too eager,” his mother laughs.

“I’m not eager. I’m just... I’m neutral about the whole thing.”

“Neutral? So than you wouldn’t mind if we didn’t go-”

“No!” Frank cuts in. His mother laughs at him again, nothing evil, just amused by the fear on Frank’s face when he thinks she’s not going to take him to see Gerard.

“Would you just... ugh,” Frank says, “I’m allowed to like his company okay!”

“Yeah, it’s his _company_ you like.”

Frank pretends not to hear and rushes himself into the driveway where the car is still parked. He situates himself in the front seat and waits until the other door opens to his left. The car is cold from being parked outside all night, but as soon as the heating is turned on it warms up almost too much for Frank’s liking.

Luckily, the town is small which means everything is within close proximity of everything else. They’re at the mall in less than a few minutes. 

“Just let me walk you to the store so I know where you are,” his mother insists when Frank tries to get rid of her.

“That’s so demeaning,” Frank says, “I feel like you just want to baby me. What if Gerard sees you?”

“Then he’ll understand that I’m your mother and want to make sure you’re safe.”

“Or he’ll think I’m just a little kid who needs his mom to take him everywhere,” Frank responds.

“I’m going to walk you there, whether you like it or not. Understood?”

“Fine,” Frank says, “just don’t follow me in. Gerard’s already schmoozed you enough.”

“Whatever, Frankie.”

Frank likes it when Gerard calls him that, but when it’s his mom calling him Frankie, it feels like she’s trying to make him younger than he is. Or maybe he just really likes it when Gerard calls him Frankie. Probably both.

After waiting the whole day for it, Frank is finally standing in front of the comic book store, shooing his mother off. He can’t stop himself from being _excited_ about seeing Gerard. He hates it, but he doesn’t hate it enough to turn away now.

Frank takes a breath and steps into the store. Almost immediately he’s hit with the sound of Gerard’s voice.

“Frankie!” Gerard’s voice says in a really happy tone which worries Frank. Gerard is happy to see him which is anything but good. He’s letting the guy in. Not only is Frank letting Gerard get to him, he’s also pretty sure that Gerard is letting _him_ in. That’s not as disastrous a circumstance as him feeling anything for Gerard, but still, Frank doesn’t want to hurt Gerard. He doesn’t want to like him, but he’d be sad to know that he hurt him.

“Um, yeah. Hi Gerard,” Frank says.

“You look upset,” Gerard says before Frank’s even stepped more than two feet into the store.

“What makes you say that?”

“You just look upset. I don’t like it.”

“I’m sorry?” Frank offers.

“About what? I’m going to try to make you not upset,” Gerard says, “come over here.”

“Where is here?” Frank says, “I mean, I am above average at Marco Polo, but I’m not _that_ good.”

“You’d make jokes at the end of the world, wouldn’t you?”

“Well someone has to be the comic relief character in the sci-fi movie. They wouldn’t have a fan favorite to kill off if not for the snarky jokester,” Frank answers. He walks toward the sound of Gerard’s voice, careful not to hit any shelves. If he were to knock over a stack of comics, Gerard would probably be the guy who’d have to pick up after him, and he’d hate to make Gerard’s job harder than it has to be.

“Why are you upset, Frankie?” Gerard asks. “Is it because you haven’t been able to talk to me for over twelve hours? That’s probably it.”

“I hope you’re joking, or you’re more self-absorbed than I gave you credit for.”

“Was it not obvious? I’m just really in love with myself, Frank,” Gerard says.

“Yeah, I thought so,” Frank replies. He can feel Gerard looking at him, and he can also tell he’s grinning. He wishes he could see it, but sadly he can’t.

He can just imagine that Gerard has the best smile ever. The brightest eyes, and the widest smile. He’s probably gorgeous too, which is something that does not make sense. Frank should not interact with gorgeous people, mostly because he can’t appreciate how good looking they are, but also partly because he just doesn’t deserve to.

“Do I need to let you get back to work?” Frank asks. He’s not sure if he’s disrupting Gerard’s shift or something.

“There’s no one here right now. Comic book nerds only ever leave the house like, once a week. Usually Wednesdays. That’s when chess club lets out.”

“You do realize you just called yourself a nerd,” Frank says.

“I don’t recall ever claiming to be anything but.”

“Do you also play chess?”

“Me? Chess? No, but I am a fan of Dungeons and Dragons.”

“You’re like a textbook dork, Gerard,” Frank says, “please tell me you’re not, like, wearing suspenders and glasses the size of the moon.”

“Would that be a turn off for you, Frankie?”

“I just don’t want to be seen interacting with Steve Urkel,” Frank replies.

“Well, you just don’t know, do you?”

“Never will.”

“Don’t say that,” Gerard answers casually.

“What makes you think I’m going to see again, Gerard? I’m waiting on a miracle, and that’s what I’ll need to be able to see.”

“Then a miracle is what we’ll wait for,” Gerard answers.

“You mean, what _I’ll_ wait for.”

“Why won’t I be there?”

“Because it’s not going to happen overnight, it’s probably never going to happen at all,” Frank answers.

“Then I’ll just have to wait,” Gerard answers, “though I guess I’ll have to start wearing paper bags when you can see again, because you shouldn’t have to look at someone who looks like me after you’ve spent so long not seeing anyone.”

“I bet you’re just saying that, but in your spare time you’re actually a model or something.”

Gerard snorts, “If you could see me, you’d know how ridiculous that statement was.”

“God, you’re always so self-assure until you talk about what you look like,” Frank makes a face and sighs, “like, you’re fine and then the topic is about what you look like and you’re all of a sudden mister self-deprecation.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yeah it is.”

“Nuh uh,” Gerard replies childishly. 

“Yeah,” Frank says, shaking his head, “When we first met and you described yourself you were really critical, and then you just maintained it. You keep writing yourself off as unattractive. Gerard, I may not be able to see, but there are some things a blind person can just sense. You’ve got a nice voice, the kind of voice that makes me think you must be good looking.”

“You don’t think that.”

“I do actually,” Frank replies. He’d never noticed it until now, but now that he thinks about, it’s true. Gerard is really harsh on himself. He’ll throw out compliments about Frank’s looks with a snap of the finger, but he talks about himself like he’s a lump of clay. 

The chime on the door rings, alerting Frank to the fact that someone just stepped in. Frank just tries to lean against the counter casually, as he listens to Gerard straighten himself up and greet to whoever is there.

Frank stands there for another few moments, but the customer doesn’t buy anything. Frank figures that out from the groan Gerard makes when the door chimes again.

“That guy looked like he had six different variants of the plague,” Gerard says.

“I think he looked fantastic,” Frank jokes.

“Shut up,” Gerard laughs, and Frank thinks that Gerard may have just gotten closer to him from behind the counter. Obviously there’s still a giant piece of furniture between them, but he’s pretty sure that Gerard is right there.

“I bet you look fantastic too,” Frank says.

“Whatever,” Gerard says. “I can tell you without having to place a bet that you’re fantastic looking.”

“You think that means anything to me?” Frank asks. “I don’t give a shit what I look like. I can’t see me, why should I care?” 

“Take it from me then. You look really good.”

“I hate you.”

Gerard chuckles and sighs before saying, “I’ve been thinking a lot about Narcissus lately.”

“Who?”

“Narcissus. He was this arrogant Greek guy who was really just, kind of an asshole. I mean, not in the charming sense like you, because hey Frank, you are a bit of a charming asshole.”

“I appreciate it,” Frank nods.

“Well anyway, Narcissus saw his reflection in a pool one day, and he fell in love with himself because he was divinely attractive. So this douchebag falls in love with his own reflection, and the dude realizes that the guy he’d fallen in love with, himself, couldn’t like, love him back. So he got really angry at the gods or whatever, because they were the same person, and he’d never seen anyone else as perfect as himself, so the brawd killed himself,” Gerard says.

“Fascinating. Why am I getting a lesson in Greek mythology?”

“Well I see it like this, okay? Frank, you’re a fucking good looking guy. Like you are, really. You’re ungodly attractive. So maybe this whole blindness thing was a cautionary tale to make sure you stayed selfless. Because, really you are a sight to see, and maybe the fact that you’re blind was so that you couldn’t fall in love with your own reflection like Narcissus did,” Gerard explains.

Frank smirks slightly, “that’s a nice theory and all, but it wasn’t some big thunder god in the sky that made me blind. It was a homeless guy who couldn’t pay for his bread without stealing cash off a couple of preteens. Nothing holy about it. Plus this guy Narcissus, he was a flaming narcissist, I’m assuming that’s where the word comes from. I’m not great, so what is there to fall in love with about me?”

“You have no idea how long the answer to that question is. If you want a list of all the amazing things about you, I’ll have it done by Christmas. Of 2045.”

"I'll be waiting for that," Frank says with a smirk. 

"Did you just hint at the fact that you just might be considering keeping me around?" Gerard asks with a smirk on his face as well. 

"Considering," Frank smiles while blushing. He ducks his head down so Gerard can't see him, but he's sure he was too late by the chuckle Gerard lets out. 

Gerard leans forward but backs away quickly when the bell chimes. Frank follows the sound while trying to hide his blush with his hair. Frank could feel how close Gerard was moments before and he wants to feel what was coming next so badly. 

"Hey guys!" a voice shouts and Frank freezes. This has to be a conspiracy. 

"What are you two doing here?" Gerard asks. 

"We just wanted to see our big brother," Mikey answers. 

"He is not my brother," Gerard snaps, pointing at Brendon accusingly. 

"Awe, come on! Don't be like that G-Man," Brendon says with his arms outstretched and smiling. 

"What are you guys doing here?" Frank finally speaks. 

"We'll only be here for a couple of minutes. Don't worry. We won't ruin your date."

"This isn't a date, Mikey."

"Hey, I'm just calling it how I see it."

"And how exactly do you see it, Mikey?" Frank asks. 

"As a date. You two were pretty close just now too."

"Oh shut up, Mikey," Gerard says noting how upset Frank is becoming. 

"If it's a date you two are extremely rude for ruining it," Frank says and everyone stops talking to look at him in complete and utter shock. 

"This could be a date, Frankie?" Gerard asks hopefully. 

"Could be, if there weren't pests around acting like 13 year old pansies," Frank spits.

“Oh Brendon, I think we spoiled a moment,” Mikey says.

“That’s precisely what I’m talking about. If this were a date, and I’m saying this hypothetically, because the last person I’d ever date is Gerard-”

“Hey!”

“Fine. The last person I’d ever date is Mikey,” Frank corrects.

“Fair enough,” Mikey says.

“What I’m saying is that, if this were a date, hypothetically, don’t you think it’d be a lot less romantic if maybe, I don’t know, someone’s _brother_ happened to interrupt?”

“He’s right Mikey,” Brendon says, “it’s super awkward that you’re here.”

“Go away, Brendon,” Gerard says.

“So that you two can start kissing?”

“Why-” Frank starts and then groans, “ugh. Why does everyone just assume I like him? Do I give off, like a flamboyantly homosexual vibe or something?”

“Well you don’t come across as straight if that’s what you’re asking,” Brendon replies.

“That doesn’t mean I like Mikey’s brother!” Frank says.

“I’m right here, you know,” Gerard reminds him.

“That doesn’t mean you’re not totally into my brother.”

“But that doesn’t mean I am.”

“But it doesn’t mean you aren’t.”

“I don’t even know what you two are arguing about,” Brendon says, “but I do know one thing, and that’s the fact that Gerard’s giving me a death glare.”

“I’ve seen that glare. He’ll give you the same look if you try to take the last slice of pizza too,” Mikey says.

Frank turns and wishes he could see whatever infamous glare Gerard is giving Brendon, but he can’t. He can’t even picture Gerard’s face to put any expression, any expression at all, on. He has no fucking idea what Gerard looks like. He also doesn’t know what Mikey or Brendon look like.

“Maybe we should go, Mikey,” Brendon says, “Frank is never going to kiss Gee if we’re here.”

“I am not going to kiss anyone!” Frank exclaims.

“Yeah right, Frank,” Mikey says, snickering.

“I’m not going to kiss you,” Frank says, turning to look at Gerard as Mikey and Brendon exit the store laughing like they’re sharing some inside joke.

“I didn’t expect you to.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Depends,” Gerard says.

“What do they look like?”

“Mikey and Brendon?”

“No, Thelma and Louise,” Frank says sarcastically.

“Um, uh. Well, Mikey is an ugly toad who looks like he was run over repeatedly by a truck,” Gerard says.

“Okay, is this Mikey’s brother speaking or a grown adult?”

“Alright fine,” Gerard says, his voice sounding like he’s rolling his eyes, “Mikey and I, I think we have the same nose. Same eyes, that’s for sure. Other than that I don’t know what to tell you, why can’t you just feel his face like you did mine?”

Frank doesn’t have a response to that. Telling Gerard the truth would just lead him into thinking Frank really does have the hots for him. Frank just really wanted to know what Gerard looked like a week ago, because he just knows Gerard is bound to be attractive.

“How about Brendon?”

“Brendon,” Gerard repeats, thinking, “Well Brendon has this massive forehead. You could land a plane on that forehead. His forehead is _gigantic_. His mouth is pretty big too. His head is an odd shape, kind of long and square almost. He’s not unattractive I guess, but he’s been my little brothers annoying friend for more years than I can count.”

Frank makes a 'hm' sound and nods. He listens intently as he hears a clock ticking somewhere off in the distance. It's so quiet he's sure he can hear Gerard's rapid heartbeat. Frank swallows and clears his throat. 

"Uh, what time do you go on lunch break?" Frank asks Gerard quietly. 

"In about another hour."

"Oh," Frank whispers. "Maybe you could read me a comic in between costumers."

Gerard smiles brightly and nods at Frank, "I'd love to do that Frankie. Your choice."

"I think I'd like the second edition of Daredevil."

"Okay. Let's go find it."

"Lead the way, comic boy," Frank says with a smile, and Gerard's insides burst with happiness at seeing Frank smiling so sweetly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh and happy Thanksgiving (unless you don't celebrate Thanksgiving, then happy whatever you feel like celebrating this week)!


	16. Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of talk about touching in this chapter. That makes it sound so much dirtier than it is.

Frank is far from protesting to Gerard’s offer of taking him to get coffee. After all, Frank has a right to the free coffee as they’ve established already. He’s never going to be bored of it.

He even allows Gerard to get a little too close to him on the way over to the Starbucks. He just keeps his mouth shut, because he wants his coffee, and he doesn’t want to push Gerard away either. Frank wouldn’t admit to the second part though.

After a few minutes, Gerard gives Frank his coffee and sits down across from him in the same spot they were in before. 

"Thanks Gee," Frank speaks happily. Free stuff always makes him giddy, and even more so now that he gets it from Gerard. 

Gerard smiles at Frank while adding an extra packet of sugar to his coffee. The barista obviously didn't feel like doing her job today. 

"You're welcome. Say do you want some extra sugar? I know if mine was made wrong yours had to be too."

Frank shrugs but pushes his cup towards Gerard, "Don't make it too sweet."

If anyone but Gerard had asked, he’d have said no altogether. He’s not sure why he didn’t just say no to the packet of sugar now.

"Yeah, because you don't like sweet things or people."

"I hope you're not referring to yourself in that statement."

"I am actually," Gerard says with a smile as he stirs Frank's coffee. "What's wrong with that?"

"You're not sweet. Your lips may taste sweet because of the cherry chap stick, but-"

"Want to find out?" Gerard interrupts and Frank swats at his leg with his cane. 

"No. Just give me my coffee please?" 

Gerard slides Frank his coffee, "Gladly."

Frank sips the coffee and gives Gerard an approving nod, "Anyway, like I was saying, you aren't sweet. You have sweet tendencies, but you're not actually _sweet_ sweet."

"I know, you said that," Gerard says rolling his eyes at Frank. "How do you figure I'm not sweet? I bought you a comic, read it to you, and read you another edition of it. I took you out for dinner and paid for it. I even buy you coffee and sugar it for you. So how am I not sweet?"

"The amount of money you spend on a person never determines how nice you are. Do you know husbands spend hundreds to apologize to their wives after beating them the night before? Or for sleeping with the secretary. A necklace, a bracelet, roses sent to the office..."

"You know a lot," Gerard stops Frank again.

"Look, my point is you only act the way you do, because you want into my pants," Frank finishes bluntly and sips his coffee. 

"That’s not true,” Gerard says, sounding offended.

“What’s not true?”

“I don’t just want into your pants, Frank. I could care less actually. I just like you. Saying that all I want is to fuck you makes it seem like all I see you as is some object for sex and I do not see you that way, Frank. I just like _you_.”

“But you still act the way you do because of the fact that you want to impress me or whatever,” Frank says.

“Hm.”

"See? You didn't even deny it."

"That one wasn’t far from the truth actually,” Gerard says with a pleasant smile on his face. 

Frank is all too aware of himself being stared at. Not only by Gerard; he feels others looking at him too. Gerard sees the people to which Frank is sensing, and keeps his eyes schooled on them. He doesn’t like the way they look like they’re up to no good, and they're looking at Frank. The story Frank had told him about why he was blinded has made Gerard extra alert around Frank, so he could spot those snake eyes from a mile away. The boys, about four of them, enter the Starbucks and start towards Gerard and Frank's table. 

"We got company, but I don't know who they are. They seem to know you though, judging by the looks," Gerard whispers and straightens up in his seat; ready to defend Frank if need be. 

Frank quirks an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything. 

"Well if it isn't Ray Charles," a familiar voice speaks and Frank ceases any movement. His heart starts to pump rapidly in his chest, but he tries to keep his face neutral. Gerard can see through the whole act. This creep is a bother to Frank. 

"How unoriginal is that one? I know you can do better, Blake," Frank says unimpressed. “Besides, I don’t find that offensive. He was incredibly talented.”

Blake walks closer to the table and Gerard has to stop himself from jumping up and pushing the guy away from Frank. He’s normally so completely against violence that it’s not even laughable, but right now, Gerard would beat the guy up without a second thought.

"Frank, who is this?" Gerard asks as calmly as possible. 

"No one important," Frank answers. Blake laughs and leans over the table into Frank's personal space. 

"You're always trying to get close to me, Blake. Attracted to me, maybe? I know how much you like to stare at my ass," Frank says in a flat tone. He's really not up for this, especially not in front of Gerard. 

"Oh, so you're back to being a smart ass, huh?" Blake asks. 

"Someone's gotta be."

"Gotta be what?"

"Smart, you idiot," Frank spits. 

"You have a lot of mouth. Where was all that mouth when you were begging for your cane?" Blake taunts, trying to embarrass Frank immensely. 

"Apparently still on my face if I was begging, right?" 

Gerard clears his throat, "Hey, I don't know you, but I think it's time you get out of his personal space."

"And who are you? His boyfriend?" Blake snaps at Gerard. Gerard wishes.

"Whatever I am to him is none of your business. You must be a real tough guy picking on someone who's defenseless though. Where is the tough in that?" Gerard looks at the guy and raises an eyebrow. "Don't you have anything better to do with your life? You don't have to answer that, it was a rhetorical question. That is, if you even know what rhetorical means."

"Don't you have better things to do? Apparently not since you're spending your time with the blind freak," Blake's voice rises a little and it takes everything in Frank not to just slink under the table. 

Gerard looks at Frank and notes the embarrassment this whole fiasco is causing him. Gerard isn't the best fighter in the world, but if he has to, he will do his best to try and bash this guy's face in. 

"The only freak I see is you. You're the one who was staring at him through the window. Now you're damn near in his lap."

"I assume you came here for something other than me," Frank cuts in, speaking directly to Blake. 

"Had I known you'd be in here I would've avoided it at all costs."

"You walked in when you clearly saw me in here. You could’ve just walked away and I’d be none the wiser, because in case you couldn’t tell, I don’t have wonderful eyesight. You can't be that stupid," Frank tests Blake's patience. 

"I'll see you at school," Blake says. "Let's go."

With that, him and his followers walk off and head to the counter. It’s all very West Side Story, but without the snapping.

“I am not defenseless,” Frank says when they’re gone.

“What?”

“You said I was defenseless,” Frank says, “I am not defenseless.”

“I just meant that, I mean Frank, you are-”

“I know I’m blind, Gerard,” Frank says bitingly, “I’m well acquainted with my blindness, but that does not make me defenseless. Just because I can’t see does not make me a flailing fish out of water. I am still my own person, and I do not need you to protect me.”

“I’m sorry, Frank. I didn’t mean it in the way that you perceived it and I’m sorry for offending you.”

Frank doesn’t say anything in response, he just grabs his coffee and sits opposite Gerard silently, trying not to be noticed. He’s not sure why it bothers him so much that Gerard called him defenseless, it just does. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that Frank kind of cares what Gerard thinks of him. He actually cares what the guy thinks. He doesn’t want to, but he does. Something about Gerard calling him defenseless just bothers him.

How must Gerard see him? He must think Frank is so helpless. Frank’s allowed to think himself helpless, but no one else has that right. He’s the only one. So what if Gerard thinks that though? Frank tries to tell himself that he’s being stupid, but it bothers him.

He accepted it a long time ago that he would never be his own person by himself. He would never have the freedom to just be independent. That’s something he told himself that he had accepted. He told himself that that was fine. He’s never believed it, but still he tells himself that. He has to tell himself that everything’s okay with the fact that he’ll never get to be independent, because if he doesn’t than he can’t make it through the day.

“Frank, I don’t think less of you. I never have.”

“I suppose you know who that guy was then,” Frank says, not responding to Gerard’s statement.

“What? No. Who was that?”

“Mikey didn’t tell you?” Frank asks. He could’ve sworn that Mikey would’ve told his brother what happened.

“Oh is this about that thing? That’s how you met Mikey isn’t it? To be honest, I don’t know. Mikey tried to tell me, but I figured it was none of my business,” Gerard says. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” Gerard says, “Well you didn’t seem to be very happy to talk about it, so I thought it should stay with you and the other parties involved.”

“You’re an asshole,” Frank says.

“What? Wait what did I say? What?”

“You’re being too nice. It’s just, ugh, you’re an asshole.”

Gerard tries to talk for a few minutes but he can’t even form words at how baffled by Frank he is right now, “so wait. You’re calling me an asshole because I’m being too nice?”

“Yes.”

“I think that’s a little counterintuitive.”

“I don’t understand half of the things you say, and the rest of the things you say are stupid. Things like that. You didn’t want to know just because you thought it would, what, make me embarrassed or something? That’s just weird. No one thinks like that. And you keep calling me attractive or up and _telling_ me that I’m attractive. It just doesn’t make sense.”

“You can’t exactly refute my claims that you’re attractive,” Gerard says, “and that’s what makes it so fun for me. You’re pretty and I can tell you precisely how pretty you are without you trying to tell me I’m wrong. You don’t know if I’m right or wrong, but I am right, because you are gorgeous.”

“Isn’t pretty meant to describe a girl or something?”

“What century do you live in?” Gerard asks, “No, Frank. It’s applicable to any gender. You’re pretty, and you’re just going to have to deal with that.”

“Well if I put a bag over my head than I won’t be anymore.”

“No, you’d still be gorgeous, it doesn’t just go away because no one can see you. That doesn’t change anything, you’d still have the same face, you just wouldn’t be giving other people the honor of getting to look at you.”

“Oh so it’s an honor now is it?” Frank asks.

“Well it’s always been an honor,” Gerard says, “You just don’t know how much of one it is.”

“I don’t even know what’s attractive, Gerard. I don’t know what people find good-looking. I mean, people tell you blondes are like stereotypical attractive, but I don’t even know what color blonde is. I don’t have any idea. I wouldn’t recognize attractive if I could suddenly see people. I don’t have anything to compare it to, so I don’t know.”

“I read somewhere once that humans find symmetry attractive, but I don’t know that that’s always true. I just think you’re good-looking.”

“Would you give a shit about me if I weren’t your so called ‘pretty’?”

“I don’t see why not,” Gerard says.

“I do,” Frank says, “and that’s one thing that I see that you don’t. I can’t really judge you based on the way you look. It doesn’t mean anything to me. I can figure out if a person is good-looking through not much effort. There’s a huge difference in the way good-looking people are treated. You can hear it. But the thing is that you say you wouldn’t be wavered by the way I look, but people aren’t as humble as they try to think they are. You really aren’t. If you can see, you will judge. That’s just who people are. I can’t see though. That doesn’t mean I’m above judging people, but it’s not as immediate for me.”

“I guess I don’t know about these things as well as you do,” Gerard says, “So how do you judge people then?”

“Voices mainly. The way people talk, the way their voice sounds, their accent, how loud they are, their word choice, things like that. I don’t like to be around people with loud voices as much.”

“Okay,” Gerard says, “So what does this voice judging practice have to say about me?”

“What?”

“What do you think about me based on my voice?”

Frank sighs, because there’s no way he’s going to admit to liking Gerard’s voice as much as he does. He’s attracted to a fucking voice, that’s not normal! That’s not normal for sighted people, _or_ blind people. He has such a nice voice though. Just the way he talks, the words he uses. Everything, really.

“Well go on,” Gerard says when Frank doesn’t answer immediately.

“Um, I guess... it’s nice,” Frank says.

“That’s all? My voice is nice,” Gerard asks, “gee thanks.”

“Well, uh, what do you want me to say? I like the way you form sentences if that makes sense. You don’t sound like you got beans stuck up your nose at a young age and that’s one of the best things I can say about a voice.”

“Lack of beans in nasal passages,” Gerard says as if he’s writing a checklist, “I’m not going to argue with that actually. I had a science teacher once who had a voice like that and I thought I was going to rip my hair out for the whole semester.”

"Well I'm glad you didn't. I like your hair."

"Really? I couldn't tell by the number of times you've run your fingers through it," Gerard says sarcastically with a smile. 

"Yeah? Well, see the next time that happens," Frank retaliates. 

Gerard chuckles and checks the time, "We still have a good amount of time left before I have to be back at work. Do you want to grab a bite to eat?" 

"I'm pretty full. My mother made sure of that before she brought me here. She doesn't like me spending all your money," Frank says with a shrug, "She doesn't know about you having to buy me coffee whenever we see each other." 

Frank salutes his coffee to Gerard before sipping it, making Gerard laugh and nod, "Okay then. I'm starving so I still want something to eat. The good thing is that you won't be able to watch me eat."

"You have no idea how bad I'd love to though. I don't mean that in a creepy way, but..." Frank trails off and shrugs. 

"No, I get it. I'm sorry. That was insensitive of me."

"No, I know what you meant by it. Forget it. What are you going to eat?" Frank asks, changing the subject. 

"Pizza."

Frank gasps and Gerard looks at him strangely, "Pizza is the key to my heart. Pizza makes me very happy."

Gerard giggles and shakes his head at Frank. The kid is being more than adorable right now and just all around. Gerard is also storing that little fact in his head. He loves learning new things about Frank. 

"How about I buy you a whole box one day and bring over some comics to your house?"

"Why would I want a box? I have plenty in the house, we just moved," Frank says, clearly being a smart ass. 

"Haha smartie pants. You know what I mean, Frankie," Gerard says. 

"Okay, but will the whole box be mine, or will I have to share it with you?"

"Whatever you want is fine. I can always buy myself my own. Or I can buy ingredients and we can make our own pizza."

"My mom won't go for that."

"I think I can convince her," Gerard smiles. 

"I don't know about that. What makes you a master at handling my mother?"

"She let me take you out didn't she?"

"She did."

"I'll be there supervising you every step of the way. I'll guide you and everything."

"I'll tell you what, if you can convince my mother, then we can make the pizza ourselves and have soda in my room; with music and comics."

“Then it’s done,” Gerard says.

“My mom won’t go for it, but I’ll let you have your dreams while you still can.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“There you go again, thinking you know my mother better than I do,” Frank says.

“I never said that, but the thing is that you can’t really hurt yourself making a pizza as long as you’re not the one who puts it in the oven,” Gerard says.

“My mom thinks I’m fragile as fuck,” Frank says, “she probably wouldn’t trust me with a butter knife.”

“But I’m very convincing when I want to be,” Gerard says.

“You’re saying that to the guy who you like, but doesn’t like you back. Gerard, you haven’t even convinced _me_ of anything, what makes you think you can persuade the most stubborn human on the planet?”

“You can’t deny your feelings forever, Frankie.”

Frank takes a sip of his coffee and ignores Gerard’s statement, “weren’t you going to get a pizza?”

“You’re coming with,” Gerard says, standing up. Frank hears the screeching of his chair and groans when he feels Gerard step closer to him. He’s perfectly content to just sit here with his free coffee and avoid any admission of his apparent attraction to Gerard.

“Come on,” Gerard says, grabbing at his arm playfully, but Frank just mopes and pulls it away from Gerard.

“Frank!” Gerard groans.

“I don’t wanna,” Frank says.

“Why?”

Frank shrugs, “Because you think you can make me, and I want to prove you wrong.”

“The pizza place sells chocolate lava cakes.”

“What was that now?”

“I will buy you one.”

Frank considers for a moment and then nods and stands up, trying and failing to ‘accidentally’ hit Gerard with his cane.

“Lead the way, comic boy.”

“I knew that’d get you,” Gerard says.

“I’m stubborn, I’m not an animal,” Frank says as if it’s obvious.

“You’re adorable is what you are,” Gerard says putting his arm around Frank, which he is always doing. Does he not realize that friends don’t do that or is he just that oblivious? Frank’s not complaining, no he wouldn’t complain, but Gerard is way too familiar with him considering how long they’ve known each other. About a week now? Seriously, the boy is a dangerous flirt.

“You do realize I just want the free food.”

“You said you weren’t hungry,” Gerard says.

“Well the Beatles were wrong, Gerard. You certainly can buy me love.”

“You are going to bleed me dry,” Gerard laughs, pulling Frank out of the coffee shop, and into the mall. The noise of the mall hits Frank and he doesn’t like the difference in the volume. It’s all faint, like the sounds are coming from a completely different part of the mall, but he’s not fond of it anyway. The coffee shop was small, quiet, and it smelled fantastic. Unless someone ordered a smoothie and they had to use the blender. That made Frank crave to murder someone. 

“I’m a gold digger,” Frank says with a grin.

“That would imply that I have any money.”

“Enough to spoil me,” Frank says.

“We’ve been over this already, maybe I want to spoil you.”

"Maybe I'm going to let you since it means free stuff."

"The only reason I haven't stopped buying you stuff is because I really enjoy it, and I'm afraid you just might stop coming around."

Frank doesn't say anything and Gerard knows he just hit a nail on the head. Gerard knows Frank won't stop coming around, because he really wants to spend time with him. He's not going to call Frank out on it again though. He'll let Frank live in his denial for a little bit.

Frank mentally kicks himself for being quiet for far too long, but he isn't about to admit that he wouldn't stop coming around; even if his silence told it all. At least it wasn't coming from his mouth. Frank notices the way the scent in the air shifts and knows they're close to the pizza place. As if on cue, Gerard slides his hand down Frank's back and guides him through the shop. 

"It smells like heaven in here."

"You think so? It smells like heaven right here," Gerard leans in and noses at Frank's neck jokingly. 

However, Frank jumps about five feet in the air, and away from Gerard. He can't allow him to do stuff like that in such an open space. That'd give Gerard the idea that they're more than they are. 

"Relax, Frank," Gerard chuckles and shakes his head. "You need to loosen up a bit."

"I'm sorry I'm not loose enough for you," Frank snaps. 

"I didn't... goodness Frank! I just meant live a little."

"I live a lot. I'm standing here aren't I?"

"Yes, but you're not _living_. You don't let yourself enjoy things. Just because I lean into you doesn't mean anything if you don't want it to. If I touch you it doesn't mean I'm going to molest you. If I move my hand a little lower on your back you don't need to tense up. I'm not going to grab your ass. Just stop being so jumpy and live," Gerard finishes and sighs. 

"Go ahead and get your food. Just tell me where to sit."

"I can take you-"

"No. I need to sit by myself for a bit."

Gerard sighs again but points as if Frank could see, "There's seats directly to your right." 

Gerard watches as Frank walks over with his cane in front of him. Gerard's shoulders slump and he lets out one more sigh before turning to go make his order. 

Frank sits at the table and slouches down in his seat. He knows the only reason he gets upset with Gerard is because he's right. Frank doesn't know how to handle that though. He doesn't like being told how to act and he most certainly doesn't like when the other person is right; that person being Gerard. Frank is trying, he really is, but he can't just fully jump into things.

Not long after, Frank feels Gerard sliding into the seat across from him. Gerard looks at Frank and gives an unsure smile, even though it really doesn't matter. Gerard's fighting to find something to say, but he's falling short. He doesn't like upsetting Frank. 

"I'm not mad at you," Frank says suddenly. 

"But you are upset?" Gerard asks. 

"Not with you," Frank replies. 

"I feel like we've had this conversation," Gerard smiles and Frank can hear the smile in his voice, therefore returning it. 

Frank thinks of what he's trying to say and tries to word it correctly in his mind before he lets it out. "We have. I'm not used to this. You treating me like this and everything... I'm just not used to it. People aren't always handing me things on a comic book platter," Frank jokes and Gerard giggles. "People don't touch me, and they certainly don't touch me the way you do."

"How do I touch you?" Gerard asks, knowing full well how he touches Frank. 

Frank closes his eyes behind his shades and takes a deep breath. It's as if at that moment he can feel Gerard's hands on him, his breath close to him, and Gerard's nose in his neck. It's as if they're back in his bedroom or outside of the restaurant. The sound in Gerard's voice when he just asked, it made Frank feel him without even being touched. 

He can picture Gerard’s hands everywhere, and that’s baffling him. Places that they should not be if Gerard is just a friend. He can’t even figure out why he can imagine it all with so much _detail_.

Gerard is well aware of where Frank's mind must be, just by the change in his demeanor. He doesn't say anything though. Gerard just waits patiently until Frank's ready to finish talking. 

"You don't touch me like Patrick or my mother. It just feels different."

"That's called a connection, Frankie. That connection you keep denying. You don't feel that with Patrick or your mother, because you don't want to, and you're not supposed to in your mother's case. You feel a certain way when I touch you, because you like it," Gerard states in a matter-of-fact way. 

"Whatever it is, I need time. That's all I'm saying. You have to let me adjust _if_ I even want to."

"You want to."

"I want time."

"So no more touching?"

"No, it's fine," Frank answers almost a little too quickly. He clears his throat before continuing, "Just don't sneak up on me like that, and certainly not this out in the open. I'm just not comfortable with that yet."

"Yet,” Gerard lets the word dissolve on his tongue like it’s heavy and needs time to be understood, “That's better than nothing."

"I wish I had your optimism."

"I wish I had you."

Frank doesn't say anything or stop Gerard in his flirting this time. He just lets him have his moment. Instead he smiles brightly at him and Gerard returns that smile. Gerard loves seeing Frank smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took too long, we apologize.


	17. Give Me Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I so want to make a humorous comment in this summary, but honestly, this chapter is depressing as hell, and it would be ill placed.

Gerard had asked him something weird today. It wasn’t really rude in the context, but it was weird in the feeling that it left Frank with. 

All he did was ask if Frank had ever kissed anyone. Frank knew he was fishing, he really did, but he took the bait anyway. Frank said no. He’s never kissed anyone, and that’s the truth.

When would he have found the time to have kissed someone? No one wanted to talk to him after the incident, and he was only eight back then. Frank’s never had the time, nor the person, and sometimes that sinks in to make him feel like crap, but most of the time he just accepts it.

Except, after a while of this life, he’s gotten sick and tired of just accepting things.

Frank had imagined, growing up, that he’d have his first kiss when he was like fifteen. Sixteen maybe. He was hoping for fourteen, because that’d be kind of cool. He was young enough to think it’d be with a girl, someone nice. Sweet. That’s what he’d pictured. He’d pictured some Disney kiss where all that really touched were lips. That’s what he’d been planning.

What he didn’t plan on was the reality that his first kiss would probably be with a guy. What he didn’t plan on was that his first kiss wasn’t going to be anywhere near the age of fifteen. What he didn’t plan on was the fact that he’d have no idea what the person he was kissing would look like. What he didn’t plan on was maybe wanting to kiss _Gerard_ of all people.

When Frank was that young, he couldn’t even fathom what it was like to be blind. That was just something that he couldn’t wrap his head around in his wildest, most demented dreams. He was eight for god’s sake, no eight year old should have to imagine what it’s like for you to have the inability to see. Eight year olds are too busy trading Pokémon cards, and telling stupid jokes with their friends. An eight year old just hasn’t lived enough to be able to consider what things might be like in the future. 

Frank didn’t think it was possible for him, him of all people, to ever have a disability. He could never get sick, after all, eight year olds think themselves indestructible. That was how he saw the world. And then, all of a sudden, he couldn’t see the world at all.

It was like everything just sort of stopped. The world that was once endless, and remarkable, became small, enclosed, ugly, and bland. Everything that once held color turned to black. It was all just black. The world stopped spinning, the birds stopped singing, everything just stopped.

Frank had spent the first month or so feeling sorry for himself. He started crying, and he started to shut the world away. It felt like he was being suffocated. Everything that he dreamed about, everything he wanted to be or wanted to do with his future was gone. It was like every door was shut and all it took was one small thing. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Then came the resentment. Why did it have to be him? Why couldn’t that guy have mugged someone else, someone who actually had money? Why couldn’t Frank have just been allowed to walk free when he couldn’t pay up? Why couldn’t he have saved some of his cash that he’d spent on a meaningless pack of gum a few hours earlier? Would that have changed anything? He hadn’t been alone, Frank had a ‘friend’ with him, why couldn’t it have been him that was blinded? Most of all, what did Frank do to deserve this?

That resentment never went away. It never faded, even though Frank tries to pretend it did. The sadness from before never went away either. It still hurt him, still _hurts_ him, every goddamn day of his goddamn life.

He was eight years old. He should’ve been worrying about learning the fifty states, or about that picture frame he’d broken and hidden from his mother under the couch. He shouldn’t have been memorizing a whole new language. He shouldn’t have been learning how to walk around. He was so young, he shouldn’t have needed to have everything taken away from him, but it was.

It’s not fair, and Frank thinks about that every second of his life. You’d think, after ten years, that eventually it might become routine by now. You’d think he’d be used to it, and maybe, if only for a few seconds, that it might slip his mind that he’s blind. Just for a fleeting moment, the smallest in the world. Maybe he’d forget. Never has he had the chance to forget though. Every single second of every single day he echoes the exact same words in his mind on repeat. ‘I’m blind.’ Over and over and over again, he hears those words. ‘I’m blind. I’m blind. I’m blind.’

No one really understands either. How could they? No one else was there, no one else has to go through the hell of being inferior every day. After a while, that resentment that he’d felt back then, became pure fury. Resentment turned to rage, and if people think teenagers are angst ridden than it was Frank who wrote the book. He doesn’t try to be a smartass, and most of the time, he can get away with convincing people that he really does just enjoy being a cynic, but that’s not the truth, and Frank knows that. He really is just miserable.

He really is just full of untamed and sheer helplessness that sometimes it makes him want to scream. Makes him want to punch everything, ruin everything. Every little thing around him becomes so dislikeable, and he detests it. Everything. Frank just has to grit his teeth and act like nothing’s wrong. He has to make his jokes, get picked on, feel the eyes of people pitying him everywhere he goes, and he can’t say how he really feels, because there are literally no words. There is no sequence of syllables he could possibly create that would ever be able to get across to anyone what it feels like. 

It is hell. 

Frank lives hell every day, and no one understands. People overlook how much pain he is in, daily, let it slip their mind completely that Frank is missing something so vital. No one could possibly get what it means.

It’s so stupid how much torture it is on Frank, because, he’s missing one thing. He’s missing one tiny thing. Just this one little miniscule thing that you wouldn’t even notice if it were on a map. It’s just this one little sense. There’s so many things about a human, that sight is so small and minimal comparatively. It’s such a small thing to let ruin your life, but not having it, that’s huge. Sight is a million times bigger when you don’t have it. It’s this huge unreachable, tantalizing thing. It’s so close, but so far away, and you can reach your hand out, but it’s not there.

It’s such a small thing, and it’s ruined Frank’s whole life. There’s no reason for it to be this big of a deal when you think about it in your head, but when you live it every day, it’s like tying a thousand pound weight to each shoulder. It’s like a Sisyphean hand around his throat, pulling him away from ever being able to do anything.

All that happened was that Frank hit his head. People hit their heads every day. Little kids fall in the park, people slam into low framed doors. Hell, some people think it’s sexy to hit their head against a headboard. All that happened to Frank was that he hit his head on a sidewalk, once, maybe twice. That’s all. 

And now every staircase is an Everest. Every shoelace is a Gordian knot.

Everything was ruined by one little bump on the head. Maybe it wasn’t exactly a little bump, but it was small. He could’ve just had a concussion, or a headache. Even a coma would’ve been better than this, but no. No, Frank’s life was completely torn apart. 

Now he's forced to act as if everything's fine. He has to pretend it doesn't matter that he can't see to prevent people from feeling bad for him. He doesn't want to be pitied or to be treated differently. Or does he?

Maybe Frank does secretly want someone to look at him and say 'I know you're not okay.' Maybe he wants someone to care enough to break him down just once. Make him confess everything and maybe, just maybe, that'll be what makes him feel just a smidge bit better. 

Frank never asked for this. He never asked for any of this. 

Now he's hours away from having to face an asshole, when all he really wishes is for this to all be one huge dream. He wishes he could wake up and find that this had been a coma after all. He's been sleeping and dreaming for years and he isn't blind. The only thing he'd be sad about is the fact that Gerard would have been a lie. 

Frank rolls on his side and curls up into a ball, much like a child in a womb, and holds himself. His body is shaking with everything he's feeling at the moment. Hurt, anger, sadness, just everything. He keeps his eyes shut tightly to prevent the tears from coming that he knows are on their way. As he does that, though, he knows his attempts are futile. 

His mind is running full force and he just doesn't get why this has to be him. Why does this have to be his life? Things like this are what makes Frank question there even being a God. What God would do this to someone? Who could be so cruel?

The sudden wetness on Frank's pillow lets him know that he's crying. He sits up and pushes himself back against his headboard. He curls himself up the same way he was laying, and wraps his arms around his knees. To his dismay, he starts sobbing loudly. 

Frank's not sure how much time has passed or how long he's been crying, but he knows his body is shaking uncontrollably. His eyes feel puffy and his throat hurts from the harsh breathing he's been doing. He's rocking back and forth until suddenly he stops. He stares into the darkness as his body continues to tremble along with his lip. The harsh reality is like a smack to the face. He can't see shit and that's why he was crying in the first place. 

He grabs his pillow and smashes his face into it. Frank holds it tightly and lets out a muffled scream. His throat burns and so do his eyes. He feels the tears start prickling at his eyes again and he doesn't try to stop them. He's way past the point of caring now. He wants to destroy something, everything, but he can’t even see to know where to begin. He screams again, and again, and again. 

Frank doesn't realize he's dropped his pillow until he hears his mother’s voice coming closer to his room. The next thing he knows is his light has been turned on and his mother has her arms around him quicker than he ever thought she could move. She's rocking him and shushing him, but he doesn't want that. He pushes her away, not harsh, but enough that she gets the hint. 

"Baby what is it? Tell me what's wrong."

"You have eyes!" Frank screams through his tear filled voice. "You have fucking eyes and you can't see what's wrong?"

Frank scoots forward until he's at the end of his bed and then he stands up. 

"I'm nothing mom," Frank sobs and wraps his arms around himself. "I'm nothing."

"That's not true."

"It is! It's true! What can I d-do? I can't do anything. I'm n-nothing... I will never be anything. I have to w-walk around here l-like everything is fine and it's not! Nothing is fine!"

Frank's mother stands up and wraps her arms around her son. He falls limply in her arms and just cries. He cries for everything he's not. He cries for everything he knows he'll never be. He cries knowing he'll have to pretend this never happened when he's sitting at breakfast. 

Right now he wishes he had never let a single tear drop. He wishes he had never made a noise. Maybe this is a dream. Maybe he's having the worst dream ever and he'll wake up perfectly fine. 

Except in dreams sometimes he gets to see things. He gets to see what he used to look like, and he gets to picture his old self, or maybe his mom, maybe their house. When he’s asleep he gets to pretend for a few hours that he can actually see things in real life, but then he wakes up and it’s all gone.

So why does he have to be this when everyone else gets to see? Why has he still not let it sink in that this is his fate, possibly for the rest of his life? His brain is stubborn and it never does what he wants it to do.

“Frankie, it’s alright,” his mom tries to cool him down. He’s just in one of those states where everything feels wrong and it all sucks right now. There’s really no coming down from that feeling.

“Nothing is fucking right,” Frank mopes, trying his best to even his breathing. He’s not sure what’s brought the pain on, sometimes though, it just happens. Sometimes it’s nothing, or it’s the smallest thing possible that makes him miserable. Sometimes there is no trigger to the emptiness he feels when he has that guttural realization that this is his life. His life is colorless, and it’s dark, and it’s full of pity. He can’t change it, he’s helpless to making things go back to the way they were, and it sucks.

There’s really no other word for it, because it really just does suck. There’s no feeling in the world that’s worse than the one when you realize you can’t change anything. What’s worse is that usually, when people have that feeling it’s when they realize they have no power to change something really big, but when Frank gets upset and has that feeling, it’s something tiny. It’s not the feeling that he can’t change things far reaching and broad, it’s the feeling that he can’t change something so small that it doesn’t even leave his own body. It’s the tiniest thing in the world, and he can’t change it, even though he would do anything if he could.

In a way, all this is because he’s realizing that he really can’t change. It’s all because there’s nothing he can do to stop being snarky and an asshole to the people around him, people who he cares a lot about. Who he would love to be a better person for, but he just can’t. 

And it’s annoying that he cares what Gerard thinks. He does though, Frank cares. He pretends he doesn’t, but he _really_ cares what Gerard thinks. He wants to not be the dumb blind kid who clings to Gerard like he’s a fucking life raft, but he can’t exactly stop that from happening when the thing that makes him do that is unchangeable.

Frank just wants to be normal. Just wants to make fun of his teacher’s bad toupee. Wants to make fun of the wrong shade of lipstick that the girl on his bus wears. He wants to underappreciate modern art and make fun of how simplistic it is. He wants to be able to look at himself in the mirror and point out all the flaws he sees in the reflection. He wants to be able to describe how attractive Gerard’s face is without having to put his hands all over the guy’s nose and stuff. He wants to be able to walk out of a fucking field while he’s being bullied without the use of a cane.

“Can’t do anything,” Frank says slowly, “nothing. I’m nothing.”

“You’re n-”

“You tell me what worth there is when you become blind, mother,” Frank snaps, in the tone that would usually get him sentenced to an hour long lecture about manners and respecting his mother, but right now is just not the time to question his logic. Logic is never a strong suit to people who feel like stepping in front of a car.

It’s not like Frank necessarily feels like that though. He’s not at the point where he’s tempted to walk into traffic for real, he’s more in the state of mind where, if a car just so happened to be heading his way, he just might not move out of the way. Sort of the state of mind where he doesn’t want to hurt himself, but at the same time he doesn’t really want to be alive.

Why is it that everyone always gets the worst of their melancholy on a Sunday night? It’s like your brain is making the active decision to fuck you over for the Monday to follow. His brain knows he has things to do, people to avoid, but moreover, people he’s got to make an effort to pretend he’s not dying inside in front of. Monday’s are the worst though because it’s almost like someone saw that you recovered a little bit of your remaining sanity over the weekend, and then decide it’d be funny to take back all the progress you made, making it ten times worse than it had been. It’s not funny though, it’s just miserable.

Right now all Frank can do is dread tomorrow and dread having to put up with Mikey, Brendon, and possibly Pete or Patrick making fun of him about Gerard. He knows it’s coming, and he knows he’s going to have to put up with it because it’s all in good fun, but really, in his head, he’s dreading every second that he’s going to have to spend preventing himself from stabbing them with a plastic fork.

“It’s just not fair,” Frank complains. He hasn’t stopped his mother from wrapping her arms around him yet, and he doesn’t intend to. Right now it feels okay. It just feels like she’s holding him together, stopping some inevitable explosion that’ll happen if he’s left on his own.

“I know,” she says.

“I just want to see,” Frank croaks, “just, you know, just that. That’s all. I wouldn’t underappreciate it. I’d be so grateful. I just want to see.”

“You should be able to, and I’m sorry,” she says.

“I should. I didn’t... I never... I’m not even a bad person, right? Like why couldn’t I just get this one thing back?”

His mother doesn’t reply, just shushes his him and holds him in place.

"I ask myself... all the time mom. I ask myself what could I have possibly done in my last life, if there really is one, that's so bad for me to not be able to see in this one. What did I do that was so cruel for me to deserve this treatment?" Frank takes in a shuddery breath and leans into his mother. 

"Baby, some things just happen. Maybe this happened so you can never take seeing for granted when you're able to see again."

"I won't see again mom. I've given up hope on that."

"Have you really? I didn't raise a quitter. You don't give up ever. You understand me son?"

"But mom-"

"Frankie," she interrupts, "I will do everything in my power to make sure you see again. I don't care if you're 30 or 60... you will see again."

"What if you die and I'm left alone mom? I won't have anyone," Frank thinks about that a lot too. 

He doesn't like to, but it's the truth. What if Frank has to do this on his own? What will he do then? Who's going to make sure he's okay and who's going to try and make it possible for him to see again? 

"You'll have someone Frankie. I'm not worried about that."

"How do you _know_?"

"I have faith Frankie, so you should too."

"I had faith and I still ended up blind."

Frank's mother sighs and takes him over to his bed. She lays him down and leans over to kiss his forehead. He hears her walk away and panics a little. She turns off the light and his panic subsides when he hears her walking back over to him. Frank should've known she wouldn't leave him alone at a time like this. 

She slides into bed and pulls him into her arms. Frank starts crying again softly and she just holds him. She wishes she could do something or say something to make him feel better. She knows one thing, though, and that's that her son will see again if it's the last thing she makes happen in life. 

"I know you think things are horrible right now, and they probably are, but you'll see that things will get better. Things happen for a reason, baby. Maybe you can find out eventually why this happened to you, and you'll probably even appreciate it. I know you don't think so, but I do. We'll be okay baby, I promise."

Frank takes in a shaky breath, and asks softly, "How can you promise that mother?"

“Because I won’t give up until things get better, and you sure as hell aren’t going to give up either. You may want to, but you won’t.”

“I just wanna see,” Frank mumbles again.

“Well that’s good, because you will someday.”

“Why can’t someday be today? Or yesterday?”

She sighs, and Frank can tell that his questioning is only making her even more determined. “Because that’s the way the world is right now, but it won’t always be that way.”

"I hope you're right," Frank pauses for a second wondering if he should say what he's about to say next. He figures, since all this has happened, things can't get any worse. "Mom..."

"Yes baby?"

"It's about Gerard, and please don't bring this up tomorrow, or any other day."

"I won't, honey."

"Promise?"

"Yes. Come out with it."

"If I was to let him in... um, do you think... do you think he could love me? Do you think I'm capable of being loved?"

"You're more than capable of being loved. And if you ask me, that boy is already on the path of being head over heels for you. You have to let him in though, Frankie."

"I know, it's not easy though," Frank whispers.

"I know. You'll get there," She runs her fingers through Frank's hair soothingly. "Sleep baby. We have to get up in the morning."

"I'm dreading that."

"You and I both," Frank's mother sighs, "Just remember something for me..."

"What is it mom?" Frank asks through a yawn. 

"Whenever things are at an absolute low, remember I love you."

"I know, mom. I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Change in tone, but hopefully that wasn't too soul-crushing.


	18. They're Just Friends... Who Sleep Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am too lazy to come up with a summary. Does anyone read these anyway?

Frank wakes up in the morning feeling like hell on his feet. His eyes are all dried out like someone took a vacuum and absorbed all the moisture. His limbs are sore from sleeping at an awkward angle. His head is screaming at the pain of an oncoming headache. His heart is aching a little at how he poured himself all out last night. Mostly, he just feels like he never wants to leave the house again.

Unfortunately, that is not an option for him, as he has to go to school. His mom must’ve already gotten up, because he can tell she’s not there anymore. Frank feels like such a child, having to crawl into bed with his mother, almost like he’d had a nightmare. Though it wasn’t a nightmare that scared him, it was the nature of his own existence.

Frank groans, and pushes the sheets back, instantly regretting it because it’s cold in the room. The heating in this house is not fantastic, and he is going to get sick of it in less than a week. The air outside is beginning to get ever colder so he’s going to have to deal with that for the entire season in all likelihood.

Frank walks over to his dresser and grabs the first shirt and pair of pants that he gets his hands on. He doesn’t care if they match. The fact that he can’t see means that people don’t judge him as much for having mismatched clothes. He slouches his way from his room to the kitchen wear his mom is rustling around with something, but he doesn’t much care what it is she’s doing.

“What time is it?” Frank asks, finding one of the chairs to sit down.

“You have about twenty minutes before you need to head to your bus stop.”

“Great,” Frank says without any emotion.

“You okay? Do you want me to drive you today or-”

“No!” Frank insists, “The last thing I need is to act like today is anything but just another ordinary day. It’s just a regular Monday.”

His mother sighs with something like disappointment, but Frank disregards it and puts his head in his hands on the table. He really is going to have to do something about this headache, but right now he just sort of wants to sit down and pretend he doesn’t feel like shit.

“You hungry?”

“I don’t know,” Frank shrugs, “I guess.”

He’s not sure if that’s an answer or not, he just sort of lays his head on the table and closes his eyes, though that doesn’t make much of a difference in how little of the kitchen he can actually see. His body tries to convince him to go back to sleep because it doesn’t want to be awake right now, and he’s almost convinced to let himself fall asleep again, but that’s not really a choice. He has to go back to school, or more accurately, go back to hell.

“Are you going to be home right after school, Frank?” his mother asks.

“Uh, why wouldn’t I be?”

“I just thought you might want to see Gerard.”

“I would love to see Gerard, but that’s not going to happen. I’m not going to see anything.”

“Frank,” she says in a disappointed tone, “I just meant, are you going to hang out with him maybe?”

“I don’t know. Probably not. My life doesn’t revolve around Gerard or anything. I’ve only known him a week,” he responds.

“I didn’t mean...” she starts, and Frank’s aware that he’s being rather frustrating today, but he doesn’t care. “I just thought that you seem happy when he’s around.”

“I don’t know,” Frank says, “I wouldn’t count on it.”

A minute later, a plate is put in front of Frank and he puzzles his eyebrows together, not knowing whatever the hell it is. He sniffs for a second before deciding it’s toast which is easier to eat than a lot of other things. Not as much of a risk of spilling it all over himself.

She sits down across the table from him, and he pretends he doesn’t notice, reaching out to grab the toast when his stomach decides that it does want food.

“Frankie, you okay?” she asks.

“I guess,” he says, because he’s not as torn up as he had been last night. He just feels mostly numb at the moment. In a lot of ways, feeling numb is a million times worse. He’s functional, more so than he had been yesterday, but he doesn’t feel much of anything. He just feels like he’s sort of _there_ and not much more than that. 

Numbness is kind of like a break off from the despair, but it’s not preferable. It’s almost better to feel like you’re dying than to not feel anything at all. It makes him care a lot less about anything or everything. Even thinking about Gerard right now doesn’t make him feel all that excited. He knows he likes Gerard, but he just feels sort of unenthusiastic about him.

“You don’t look okay,” she says.

“Neither do you,” Frank says, “You look rather blurry.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Sorry,” he shrugs. “I guess, I mean, I’ve got a bit of a headache.”

The chair scrapes, and Frank’s not even aware of how in tune his mother can be with most of his thoughts, because not a minute later she’s setting a glass down in front of him and an Advil. Frank sometimes thinks she might be a mind reader, but they do hang out with each other a lot because of Frank’s codependency on other people to not accidentally kill himself doing menial tasks.

For the next ten or so minutes Frank just keeps his head on his arm and waits for his mom to tell him that he should head out. He doesn’t know where he wants to be, because right now he definitely doesn’t want to go to school, but he also doesn’t want to be at home. He wants to be nowhere all by himself.

Finally, he hears, “Frank, you should get going.”

“Okay,” he replies, picking himself up and walking into the adjacent room.

“Wear your coat,” she calls after him.

“Where is it?” Frank asks, because there’s still boxes randomly around the room, and he doubts his coat is on the floor anyway so his cane isn’t really going to do the job.

“By the door,” she says, and then he hears her coming into the room, and grabbing it for him. Frank accepts it and shrugs the jacket on carelessly.

“Can I go then?” Frank asks after getting his feet into his shoes, which really seem rather clunky if you ask him. His mother is overly paranoid that he’s going to slip on the ice though. You slip once, one measly time and ever since she just expects it to happen every time he leaves the house.

Frank walks at a snail’s pace to the bus stop. He’s memorized the route by now, after all it’s not that complicated. The air isn’t all that cold, but he’s pretty sure the tips of his ears are turning a pale shade of red anyway. It doesn’t bother him though.

Frank’s gotten used to the silence that falls over the patrons at his bus stop when he approaches, and it only annoys him a minor amount. People seem to think his only goal in life is to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations, which is not true, but no one ever considers that.

Time is both slow and fast right now. In one part of his head it feels like the bus doesn’t come for another twenty years, but on the other end of his brain, it’s like it takes a few seconds. His senses are muddled and he doesn’t care, he just knows that he climbs up the familiar feeling steps on the bus after some amount of time.

Not unlike the bus stop, the bus itself hushes a little. No one wants to have the blind guy know that they’re there or something. He’ll never understand the logic of sighted people. In a lot of ways, he feels that they’re dumber, but that’s probably just because he’s somewhat arrogant.

The bus stopping becomes a mindless distraction to Frank. He hasn’t actually counted how many stops are between him and Patrick. It’s something like three, but he’s not paying attention enough to know how many stops they’ve had so far.

Frank just knows when Patrick is sitting down next to him, because no one else wants to sit next to Frank.

“You look tired.”

“I am tired,” Frank says, “you look ugly.”

“That’s always a nice thing to hear from a blind guy,” Patrick replies.

"I'm glad I could make your day," Frank says nonchalantly. 

"Never said it made my day," Patrick answers back just as dryly. Patrick sighs and slouches in his chair just a little. "Want to talk about it?"

"You should know me well enough by now to know the answer to that," Frank replies in a dry tone. 

"I was just trying to be a good friend."

"We're not friends," Frank snaps, but keeps his voice low. 

"Right."

Frank doesn't say anything else and neither does Patrick. Frank remembers all of his epiphanies he came up with a few days ago, but right now he doesn't care about all of that. He doesn't care about hurting people's feelings by saying they're not his friends. He doesn't care if he's in Gerard's presence or not at the moment, because he's liable to push him away. Frank isn't worrying about anybody but himself in this moment. 

Frank's not sure how much time has passed when he counts the stops to his hell. He just knows he's glad to be getting out of the thick air of the bus. Patrick moves to the side to let Frank pass first and then follows him off the bus. They remain silent as they approach the school and when they enter the hallways, Frank knows eyes are on him. They always are. 

What makes people think he wants to be the walking joke? What makes them think it's okay to make him more uncomfortable than he already is, by being the only guy walking around with sun glasses in the winter and a cane? Why didn't these kids’ parents teach them some manners?

Patrick opens Frank's locker for him and Frank mumbles a thanks. Patrick grunts a reply and Frank sighs. He doesn't want Patrick to be mad at him, but he also doesn't want to apologize either. He's really indecisive today. He doesn't know which way is up or right. 

Frank keeps missing the hook for him to hang up his coat and he groans angrily. 

"Would you mind helping me with this?" Frank grumbles. 

"Sure. Whatever you need," Patrick takes the coat and laughs when he misses the first time. Frank laughs too because he felt Patrick's arm hit him with the miss. 

Frank smirks, "I guess not everyone who can see is better than blind guys after all."

"I would never claim to be better than you. You can see with other parts of your body. You have super heightened senses. I would love that. I would love to hear danger coming two blocks away rather than when I'm already on the ground. I'd definitely love to have a cane to whoop ass with. You're better than most people, you just don't like to admit it," Patrick goes back into Frank’s locker and then closes it once he's done. "Let's get you to class."

"Great. Asshole central," Frank spits, referring to Blake. 

"Forget him," Patrick says with a shrug. "Or hit him in his balls with your cane.”

“How tall is he?” Frank asks, “I’d hate to aim for the nards and actually hit him in the shins.”

“He’s taller than me-”

“That doesn’t take much,” Frank says.

“You can’t even see me and yet you make the short jokes!”

“Who wouldn’t?” Frank says, “No but seriously, I think I could get him if he bothered me. Like a video game.”

“Rather strange video game.”

“Well I haven’t played a video game in ten years, I don’t know what they’re like. Actually, I recall them being stupid. Who the hell wants to stay inside to try to get a frog across a stream? Frogs are amphibians, they like water, but the frog dies if he falls in the water! What a stupid concept.”

“You know, video games have made some progress since Frogger.”

Frank shrugs, and follows Patrick’s voice to his class. Patrick’s got his own class that is all the way across the school and up a busy flight of stairs, so Frank remembers to realize how much Patrick is going out of his way for this. He really shouldn’t be helping Frank at all with the way that he’s acting.

Patrick leaves him once Frank’s found the classroom with his bitch of a teacher, who he would really love to hit with his cane as well. He’s one of the first people in the room though, so Frank just slips to the back of the class and hopes that no one decides to bother him. No such luck though.

He’s only been sat down for a minute when he can feel some mouth breather walk into the class, and he makes a contented noise when he spots Frank. Frank knows who it is before the guy opens his mouth.

“Look at who it is,” Blake says.

“Who?” Frank asks, “You’re going to have to tell me, I can’t see.”

“Blind freak.”

“That is not my name.”

“Why do you need a real name? You’re just a cripple.”

“Well you’re just a dumbass,” Frank says.

“Your mouth is pretty big even without any of your body guards. Where is your boyfriend when you need him?”

“Since when does getting a coffee with a friend institute a love affair?” Frank asks. Blake doesn’t respond to that, possibly because he’s not good with big words, as his brain is too slow to process anything that can’t be spelled in a word search on a kids menu.

“You didn’t deny anything.”

“Well so what if you did see me with my boyfriend? Why would that matter to you? It doesn’t concern you,” Frank says, staring straight ahead of him without even bothering to turn his head in the direction of where Blake’s voice is coming from.

“You’re just a fa-”

“I’d advise you not to finish that sentence if you want to have children someday,” Frank says, pulling his cane out in front of himself and brandishing it tightly in his fist.

“You’ve got another thing for me to steal then?”

“You’re really so unattached to your genitalia that you wouldn’t mind me hitting you there? Repeatedly?”

“You’re blind, you can’t even see me,” Blake says.

“Nah,” Frank says, “But I can hear you.”

“So?”

Frank grins and thinks of Gerard for a moment before saying, “Well, I’m like Daredevil. I may not be able to see, but all my other senses are heightened. My aim isn’t bad, but we can both find out together just how good it is.”

Blake doesn’t reply at all, and Frank knows that he wants Frank to think it’s because their teacher just entered the room, but he’s not that dumb. The teacher doesn’t like Frank and it’s an institution at almost every school that football players are treated like saints by the teachers. It’s a stupid rule, and he’s never going to understand it, but schools give very few shits about education, and quite a few shits about sports teams. Blake could probably murder Frank with an audience and the school would still condemn Frank for instigating the argument in the first place. 

Frank decides that he won this round. The day, that only an hour was looking incredibly bleak, is picking itself up a bit already. 

Frank’s been dreading the moment that lunch comes around all day, so when he’s walking into the cafeteria he decides to take his time. He feels his shoulder being grabbed and his body rushing forward with the person. 

"Why ya walking so slow there, Frankie?" Brendon asks in a teasing voice. 

"It's rude to push people," Frank says quickly. 

"It's rude to act like you don't want to tell your frie-" Frank looks at Brendon warningly, deterring him from saying what he was going to say, "-acquaintances how your dates went."

"They weren't dates, and this is exactly why I didn't want to come in here," Frank accuses. 

"Awe, come on Frankie," Mikey says somewhere in front of him as Brendon plops him down in his seat, and sits next to him. "We just want to know when to plan the wedding. I will be the best man, however." 

"There won't be anything for you to plan if you don't get out of my face Mikey. I will sharpen my cane and stab you in your jugular," Frank spits. 

"Damn Frankie, and I thought Mikey was the crazy one," Pete says as he sits on the other side of Frank. 

"Stop calling me Frankie!" Frank shouts. 

"How come Gerard gets to call you that?" Patrick speaks softly, obviously across from Frank and next to Mikey. 

"What is this? Monkey see monkey do? Grow up Pat," Frank would roll his eyes now if he could. 

"Did you just give me a nickname?"

"No, I was simply teasing you with one, since you like to tease me with mine. Plus I'm too lazy to say your whole name."

"I do not like to tease you," Patrick argues. 

"Just shut it guys. Who cares?" Pete interrupts. 

"Right. What I care about is whether or not you've kissed my brother yet?" Mikey asks, as if he's entitled to that answer. 

"That is none of your business. Do you always keep tabs on people your brother tries to pursue? Do you ask about the first hand jobs and blow jobs too?" Frank asks smarmily. 

"Oh please, as if. Gerard doesn't date many people. He's probably lucky you can't see," Mikey insults his big brother. 

"Hey, don't say that, man. Gee looks good," Pete defends Gerard. 

"He's alright, but really, who's the stud out of us two?" Mikey asks with a smirk. 

"Gerard is prettier than a stud. Pretty usually beats stud. At least it seems it would for Frank," Brendon intervenes.

"We're not friends anymore, forehead," Mikey answers annoyed. 

“Wait so, how big is your forehead?” Frank asks, because he keeps hearing about Brendon’s forehead, but he has no idea what it looks like.

“Huge,” Mikey answers for him.

“Hey!”

“Don’t try to deny it,” Pete says, “Your forehead is massive.”

“Ugh,” Brendon says, “Yeah, well you’re stupid.”

“Good comeback,” Frank laughs.

“I haven’t even started with you, Frank,” Brendon says, “Word is that you and Gerard slept with each other!”

Frank almost snorts the milk he’d been trying to drink at those words, and he coughs, trying to breathe again. All the while being laughed at.

“So it’s true!” Mikey says.

“No!” Frank shouts, a little too loudly. “I mean, I guess, well, he slept in my bed, if that’s what you mean. Gerard fell asleep in my bed and it was, he was-”

“So you _did_ sleep with Gerard,” Mikey says.

“I didn’t!” Frank says, “He was unconscious relatively near me, but that is all. For fucks sake, I don’t even like him!”

Pete snorts, “yeah, and I don’t like pizza.”

“I don’t!” Frank says, “Why can’t I just, like, interact with him in a completely platonic manor?” 

“Because you like him,” Mikey says.

“But I just told you that wasn’t true.”

“You were lying.”

“I was not,” Frank says, “jeez, I don’t even... I hate all of you.”

“What’d I do?” Patrick asks.

“You’re just sitting there, and you abandoned me the other day,” Frank reminds him.

“Yeah but you wanted to be alone with Gerard,” Mikey says, as if he’s stating a fact of absolute certainty, “You spent an awfully large amount of time with a guy you supposedly don’t like. You went out for dinner, and made out. You read comic books, and made out. You two probably woke up when you were supposedly ‘just sleeping’ and then made out.”

“Okay, so maybe that stuff happened, but we didn’t make out. All we did was, like, fall asleep in the same general vicinity.”

“After you made out.”

“There was no making out!” Frank says, “Why on earth would I make out with a guy I’ve only known for a week.”

“You’re eighteen Frank, not fifteen.”

“Are you calling me a slut?” Frank asks.

“I don’t believe in that word,” Mikey brushes him off and then says, “I just don’t think you didn’t kiss Gerard.”

“That was a double negative,” Brendon says.

“Shut the hell up, asshole,” Mikey says, “I think Frank kissed Gerard at some point in the last three days. There, better?”

Frank shakes his head, “Well you’d be wrong, I swear.”

“Yeah whatever,” Mikey says, “I just thought you were honorable enough to admit to kissing my brother in front of your friends at the very least.”

“Okay, so there’s a lot of fallacies in what you just said. Firstly, you are not my friends. I don’t have friends. Secondly, don’t think for one second that I’m honorable. Third, I can’t admit to something that didn’t happen. I did not kiss Gerard. I don’t want to kiss Gerard, I will never kiss Gerard, I would rather kiss anyone in the world,” Frank says. The last few statements weren’t exactly true, but he hasn’t kissed Gerard and that’s a fact. He kind of wants to, although you’d have to put Frank through rigorous torture to ever get him to own up to that.

“Don’t say never,” Mikey says, “you’ll regret saying that when I’m the best man at your wedding.”

“Why would anyone even marry a blind guy? Mikey, I do not want to kiss your brother. I would never even dream of it.”

“You so want to kiss his brother,” Pete says.

“Agreed,” Brendon says. “You may not have already kissed him, that might be true, but you totally _want_ to.”

“Why would you get to be his best man?” Patrick asks.

“Because Gerard is my brother,” Mikey says.

“Yeah, well I’m Frank’s ‘acquaintance’ too and doesn’t he get some say in it?” Patrick replies, and Frank can tell he put air quotes around the word acquaintance. 

“Wait so can I officiate?” Brendon asks.

“Aw, I was going to ask to officiate!” Pete groans.

“Beat you to it, ha!”

“Why are you planning my wedding to a person I don’t even like?” Frank asks, putting his hands on his head, like his head is about to explode with all the stupidity happening around him.

“Frank, we’re planning your wedding to Gerard,” Mikey says, stringing the name out like Frank’s the idiot, “we’re planning your wedding to someone you do like.”

“I don’t like him.”

“Don’t like who?”

“Gerard!”

“Oh, that guy you like.”

“I don’t like him!” Frank splutters.

“Who?”

“Gerard!” Frank shrieks, “I don’t like Gerard.”

“Liar liar pants on fire,” Brendon murmurs under his breath.

“I will rip your tongue out of your throat and force-feed the bloody appendage down your throat,” Frank threatens.

“Well that was colorful,” Pete says.

"Your eye is going to be colorful if you don't cut the crap. I don't like him and that's that. We haven't kissed and we won't kiss. We’re just two people who meet up occasionally," Frank spits. 

"Who sleep together," Brendon adds. 

"I fucking hate you," Frank growls. 

"Hate is a strong word," Pete says. 

"Apparently the word isn't as strong as Brendon's forehead, the way you guys tell it," Frank laughs and the guys join in. 

"Hey, fuck off alright?" Brendon pouts and puts his chin in his hand. 

"I think your forehead fits you," Patrick says quietly. 

"Thanks Pat," Brendon replies and Patrick shrugs after grimacing at the name.

Frank clears his throat, "Now that the love connection is over."

"Shut up, Frank," Brendon almost yells. 

“So, anyway, besides the topic of the nonexistent relationship between Gerard and I, what else is up?”

“Frank you had better hope I don’t become a lawyer someday because I will call you to the bench, and ask you what your feelings for Gerard are, and you can’t lie under the court of law, so you will have to admit to it,” Mikey says.

“Nah that won’t work,” Brendon says, “because you’ve gotta go to school to become a lawyer and that’s going to take a couple of years, so Frank and Gerard will be married by then.”

“Fucking hell,” Frank exasperates and then lets his head fall down onto the table.

“Aww, we’ve embarrassed Frankie,” Brendon says, putting his hand around Frank’s shoulder, in a very different way than when Gerard does the same. When Brendon does it, it’s to tease Frank and demean him, but when Gerard does it, there’s something entirely different about it. Franks not sure exactly what the right words are to describe it, there’s something like a spark when Gerard touches him, that is not there right now.

“Get off me,” Frank says, pushing Brendon away by the face, and then he notes, “Wow, you really do have a huge forehead.”

Brendon pushes Frank’s hand away while Pete laughs on Frank’s other side.

“You guys are awful,” Brendon says.

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Frank says.

“Brendon, we’re not awful if we’re just stating the truth.”

“Oh, if that’s the case than Mikey, you only have four different facial expressions. Pete, you have a codependency on things with caffeine or sugar, and Patrick, you try too hard to be nice to everyone.”

“And me?” Frank asks.

“I thought that one was obvious,” Brendon says, making Frank worry for a moment about what he’s about to say, “you underplay your relationship with every human on the planet.”

“You know, I’m not going to lie,” Pete says, “Those were all fairly accurate assessments.”

"It's just no one’s business how I see people I occasionally converse with," Frank shrugs. "The sooner you all learn that the better."

"Whatever Frank. You so want to kiss my brother. That's what we all grasp from seeing you two together," Mikey states as a matter of fact.

"If you guys were considered my friends you'd be the worst of the worst," Frank says snappily. "Just shut up and fuck off."

"We'll fuck off when you and Gerard do," Brendon enters. 

"Oh fucking hell!” Frank shouts, causing the whole lunchroom to look in their direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment?


	19. You Give Me Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a good chapter. I like this chapter.

Frank's walking around the gym trying to get his mile walk over with. He's aware that there's eyes on him, but he's trying to ignore it. Frank knows it's Blake and his stupid followers. 

"On your left freak!" Blake calls out and Frank moves to the right. 

"On your right," a voice says as he bumps into Frank harshly. 

"Usually the warning comes before you take the person's shoulder off," Frank snaps. 

Blake stops in front of Frank, and Frank knows, because he feels his breath on him. He hears Blake panting in his face. He sees his blurry form in front of him. Frank's also aware of the other boys standing behind him. 

"You keep it up with that mouth of yours, and it won't be the only thing I take off," Blake says warningly. 

"I guess it's a good thing I can't see to spare me the horror of you naked," Frank says in what he hopes to be a bored tone and not scared. He's very scared. 

"Hey! Break it up over there! Back to work!" the teacher's voice booms out and Blake chuckles. 

"Saved by the teacher this time. I'll get you again, just you wait," Blake growls. 

"I'm sorry, I have better things to do than wait around on you."

Blake smirks and nods to his boys. They walk past Frank pushing him on either side. He almost falls over, but he's glad he doesn't.

Frank feels like it’s horribly unjust to make the blind kid run in the same vicinity as someone who likes to pick on him, but he’s not going to complain. He has his pride, and the last thing he wants is to be a tattle tale. No, he’ll just have to keep his head held up.

Frank makes it through the rest of gym relatively unscathed, but he’s terrified of the locker room. There’s no one in there to protect him should he need it.

“I was about to say that it’s unfair to put the gay guy in here with naked boys but then I realized that he’s a blind freak,” Blake says, coming up behind Frank.

“Oh think things through then,” Frank says, “I feel like it should have crossed your mind that I’m blind first. That’s kind of a big flaw in your plan.”

“So you are gay?”

“Well I am just happy all the time,” Frank says blandly.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“No?” Frank says, trying to rationalize how much of a dunderhead Blake actually is.

Frank frowns, and tries to think for a moment while Blake looks for something to say in response.

It’s probably too cold to stay in his gym shorts, but he hadn’t changed his shirt because he didn’t feel the need to. Frank tries to figure out how he can do that without the risk of Blake trying to attack him, literally with his pants around his ankles.

One good thing about the lockers in the locker room is that they have metal plates with numbers on them, but the numbers have ridges so it’s easy for Frank to feel them. He’s not dumb enough to have left his clothes in an unlocked locker though, so he used his own lock with a key, because he can’t really type in a combination.

Frank makes a beeline for one of the bathroom stalls, because he’s relatively safer in there than he is out where Blake or one of his cohorts can get to him. 

Frank manages to change pretty quickly, actually and once he’s done, he runs straight for the front door of the locker room, and heads out into the hallway. His reasoning for this is that there’s more likely to be onlookers if Blake tries to pull anything. 

The bell hasn’t rung yet so Frank just has to wait there until it does.

“Trying to run away?” Blake says, coming up behind Frank.

“Nope, I just don’t find the smell of locker rooms to be all that appealing.”

“Like I’m going to believe th-” the bell rings to interrupt him and then Frank is off. He goes way too quickly considering he can’t even see out in front of him.

“Frank, where’s the fire?” someone, who Frank immediately recognizes as Brendon, says and then catches up to him insanely quickly.

“I hope you’re here to open my locker for me,” Frank says, not stopping as he walks down the hall.

“I can do that,” Brendon says, “so are we running from someone in particular or...?”

“You can guess who.”

“Oh,” is all Brendon says. That’s kind of how he met Frank so he’s familiar with the problem.

Frank’s already memorized the halls of this school, because that’s his only indication of how to get around other than his cane. He comes to a halt when he knows he’s in the correct hallway, and he starts to notice that people are filling it up, pushing past him rudely.

“Over here,” Brendon drags Frank to his locker, and then Frank has to tell him the right numbers for him to spin. There’s a faint click when the door opens. 

“I’ll be back in a sec,” Brendon says, “I gotta get my stuff too.”

Frank remembers Brendon telling him that his locker was near Frank’s but he hasn’t a clue where, and he honestly doesn’t care. He’s also not so sure he’s willing to wait for him, because Frank is highly impatient. 

Nevertheless, Frank stands next to his locker a minute later after he’s gathered his things and he waits. If Brendon takes too long he’s just going to go. He didn’t thank the guy for getting his locker open, but Brendon’s not under any illusion that Frank is the most polite guy in the world anyway. The most polite guy in the world is actually on the other side of the school, or maybe he’s already on the bus Frank’s not looking forward to getting onto. 

“I didn’t think you’d wait,” Brendon says.

“I don’t want to be trampled by the bigger kids,” Frank says, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but I’m rather short.”

“I’ve noticed,” Mikey says, so apparently Mikey is with Brendon. 

“We were instructed to take you to the side parking lot,” Brendon says.

“You were instructed?” Frank asks.

“Yep.”

“Patrick needs me though. Patrick is smaller than I am, and he’s too nice to ever tell people to fuck off if they pick on him,” Frank says.

“He survived just fine before you,” Brendon says, and he’s already started to drag Frank in the opposite direction to the one he wants to go. Apparently the side parking lot is where teachers park their cars, so Frank isn’t anxious to go that way. He imagines it’s a lot less busy though. 

Frank’s trying to figure out what’s going on, and he decides the most likely reason is that Brendon’s decided he’s driving Frank home. That doesn’t explain why he said he was ‘instructed’ though.

“I will murder both of you if you’re trying to pull something,” Frank says.

“You’re welcome to murder Brendon, but what the hell did I ever do?” Mikey asks, “Don’t answer that. My legs are longer than yours though, I’d just run away.”

“Some act of friendship that is,” Brendon mumbles, “Take me, but you’re going to save yourself?”

“Well yeah,” Mikey says, “You’d better hope there’s never a zombie apocalypse, because I promise you Brendon, I will offer you up as dinner so quickly that you’re not even going to have time to say ‘betrayal.’”

“Asshole.”

“Where the hell are we going?”

“We told you,” Brendon says.

“Why are we then?”

“You’ll just have to wait and find out.”

Frank groans but allows himself to be dragged until he hears a door swinging open and then he’s pulled outside.

Frank feels the cold the second he’s outside and he wishes he could go back in, because it’s unpleasant. Then he hears a voice that neither belongs to Mikey nor Brendon.

“Hey Frankie.”

“Oh fucking hell, you lured me into Gerard?” Frank says.

“Where else would we have lured you?”

“Not cool.”

“It’s actually very cool, Frank. The weather is in the single digits,” Mikey says.

“Fuck off.”

“Aw come on, Frankie. If you’re going to be mad at anyone, be mad at me,” Gerard says.

Frank looks at Gerard with a scowl on his face. "I believe you two have done what you were instructed to do. You can run along now." Frank grits his teeth while still looking in Gerard's direction. 

Gerard smiles at Frank's little attitude. It's endearing, and adorable, and Gerard loves it. Mikey and Brendon are fighting back their laughter and Gerard nods at them to get out of here. 

"You're welcome, Frankie," Mikey sings. 

"I never thanked you. And stop, for the love of God, calling me Frankie!" Frank has had it with them calling him that. They just love to make him upset. 

"Sure thing, Frankie," Mikey says and pats him on the back. "Let's go Bren." 

"See ya, Frankie."

"Fuck you."

"Have fun, Gee," Brendon smirks and winks, and Frank swings his cane behind him, because of the way Brendon said it. He hits Brendon successfully. "Damn it Frank!"

"Would you like another?"

"Man whatever. See you guys later. Let's go Mikes."

Without another word they're walking off to leave the boys alone at last. 

"You should really stop using that thing to torture people," Gerard says, the smile evident in his voice. 

"Would you like to be next?" Frank asks. 

"I'd like to put you in my car and take you home," Gerard retaliates. 

"I could've caught the bus. What if Patrick worries about me?" Frank says, knowing he doesn't really care either way. 

"Like you really care." Gerard replies as if reading Frank's mind. "He already knew about this." 

"Seriously?" Frank scoffs and throws his hands in the air. "The next time you plan on kidnapping me, let me in on it in advance. I would've stayed behind and let Blake whoop my ass."

"He's been bothering you again?"

"Well he did say he'd see me in school. He likes to keep up on his threats. Maybe he could knock my head against the concrete and knock my sight back," Frank says quietly. 

"Hey, don't say shit like that," Gerard wraps his arm around Frank's waist and starts walking him over to his car. Frank's used to it now so he just lets it happen. "I think I have just the thing you need."

"I don't need anything from you Gerard," Frank says and that's kind of a lie. 

Frank needs Gerard to let go of his waist so he can breathe regularly. He needs Gerard to pull him closer. Frank needs Gerard to go away. He needs him to take him away with just them somewhere far away. 

"Not even that pizza I told you I'd get for you?" Gerard opens the passenger side door and ushers Frank inside. 

"Are you serious?" Frank asks, now with interest. 

Gerard chuckles and closes the car door. He rushes to get around the car, so he can get out of the cold, and closer to Frank. He gets in the car and reaches over to buckle Frank up. 

Frank's aware that he always leaves his seatbelt undone. He's also aware that it's because he lives for that moment when Gerard reaches over him, breath hot in his face, body close to him, and pulls it over his body. Frank loves the way Gerard's knuckles run across his body as he's pulling the belt across. He loves that he can feel Gerard's eyes on him, watching for his reaction, the whole time he's doing it. 

Gerard watches like he always does as Frank's breath catches in his throat. Once he clicks the belt in place he hovers near Frank a little longer. He smiles watching Frank's eyebrow rise with wonder. Frank's cheeks are red and Gerard knows it's not from the cold. 

"I'm serious," Gerard purrs and Frank's pretty sure he's going to melt. "You said you love pizza and I said I'd get it. Also, you need some fun. I'm gonna give you that." Gerard watches as Frank just nods in response. 

Gerard doesn't say anything else. He does, however, peck Frank on his cheek. Frank stiffens but doesn't say anything. He just listens as Gerard starts up the car, clicks his own seatbelt into place, and turns on the radio. 

The first half of the car ride passes with Frank spending all his energy in trying to make the blush disappear from his cheeks, and Gerard singing along with the radio. Frank would very much like to pretend that it isn’t one of the most adorable things in the world, but he’s having a lot of trouble not smiling or giggling.

Gerard’s got to stop his whole being adorable and perfect thing or Frank is going to have to rethink his entire existence. It’s getting insane how much he likes being around Gerard.

“I told you that my mom’s not going to go for it,” Frank says.

“Well, we’ll just have to wait and see won’t we?”

“It’s not even time for dinner yet!” Frank says, as school literally just ended.

“Then we’ll wait awhile.”

“You have a plan for everything don’t you?”

“Yep,” Gerard says.

“So what do you intend to do that’s going to waste however much time we need to waste until it’s appropriate to eat?”

“Well you have homework I’d imagine.”

“You’re just going to watch me do homework?”

“Yep,” Gerard says, “I’m not going to let you fail school just because you like to spend all of your time with me.”

“Excuse me? I’m not the one who ambushed you and told you we’re making pizza!”

“Calm down, Frankie.” 

“Yeah whatever.”

“So, how come you let me call you Frankie if you don’t let Mikey or your other not-friends-but-actually-are-your-friends?”

Frank dreads this question even though everyone keeps asking it, “You’re more stubborn.”

“Mikey is pretty stubborn.”

“But you’re _more_ stubborn.”

“I would have to disagree with that,” Gerard says.

“You’re just, ugh, I don’t know. You’re harder to say no to.”

“I am?” Gerard asks and Frank instantly regrets ever opening his mouth.

“I just mean that... Mikey or the other guys they’re saying it to tease me or whatever, and you don’t call me Frankie like that. It’s different when you say it.”

“You’re right,” Gerard says, “I’m not trying to tease you. I just really like to call you that. I also just really like you, but you already knew that.”

“Why do you keep saying that?”

“Because it’s true.”

“So what? I mean, that’s all well and good if it’s true, but you don’t just admit that. Like, you can keep some emotions or thoughts to yourself.”

“But I like you,” Gerard says.

“Yeah, well you’ve said that, but that doesn’t mean you have to have said that. It’s too late to retract it now, but you could’ve, like, never said that at all,” Frank says, confusing himself a little bit.

“Life is too short to deny it when you like someone, Frankie. I would rather be embarrassed that someone doesn’t like me back rather than wait out a crush for years as it slowly rots away my insides.”

Frank blushes again but if Gerard asks, it’s just because the heating is on too high and it’s making him really warm. Gerard notices though and he grins. It’s almost unbelievable how much of an effect he has on Frank. 

Frank tries to think of anything to change the subject, and this results in him falling back on their previous topic. “I don’t even have that much homework. It’s a Monday, so just like, some math problems and that’s about it.”

“Well then that’ll give me more time to get to spend with you,” Gerard says.

“You’re just...” Frank says, but he can’t find the word to describe Gerard. There doesn’t seem to be one. He can’t find any work that describes the guy in the slightest. Infuriating? Alluring? Distracting? Aggravating? Tempting? There’s a whole surplus of words that come close, but none that quite hits the mark.

"I will never understand why you want to be around me," Frank changes the direction of what he was going to say since he didn't know what to say. "I know you've explained it, but I guess it's going to take me a while to understand it."

"As long as by you saying that, it means I'm going to be around for a while, I'm fine with that," Gerard says. "Why do you want to be around _me_?"

"Who says I want to be around you?" 

Gerard laughs and Frank looks in his direction. Gerard glances at him repeatedly and then pulls the car to a stop. 

"I know you want to be around me, because you never make a full effort to push me away. You attempt, but you never fight for long,” Gerard turns the car off and takes the key out of the ignition while continuing. "I know you want to be around me, because of the way you smile when you are. The way you laugh, and giggle, and the way you just let go tells me you want to be around me."

"You're delusional," Frank says with a huge smile on his face. He ducks his head when he realizes Gerard's staring at him. 

"See? That's all I want to see when we're together."

Frank lets out a breathy chuckle and shakes his head. "Are we at my house?"

"Yes we are. Ready to go get this party started?"

"Yeah, I'm ready."

Gerard unbuckles Frank's seatbelt and then his own. He climbs out of the car and rushes to go grab Frank's hand since he already got out of the car so quickly. Gerard closes the door and locks it. They're then making their way up Frank's pathway to his door. Before they get there the door is being opened and Gerard is staring at Frank's smiling mother. 

"What a nice surprise. How did you talk him into letting you come over this time?"

"Mom,” Frank whines. 

"What? I'm just asking."

"Pizza,” Gerard answers with a smile, rolling his eyes fondly. 

"That'll do it,” Frank's mother says. 

"How was your day mother?" Frank asks to change the subject. 

"Wow, it was nice. It just became even better with my son actually asking,” Frank's mother kisses his cheek as they enter the house. "How was your day?"

"It wasn't as bad as it could've been,” Frank shrugs off his jacket and Gerard takes it from him. "I'm okay mom. Thanks,” Frank says sincerely and his mom smiles at him. 

Gerard notices this is a moment that he has nothing to do with. He watches as they embrace in a quick, but heartfelt hug. 

"Get your homework done before fun. I'm going to make a very quick run to the post office. I wanted to tell you before I left."

"Okay mom," Frank says. Frank's mother puts on her coat and buttons it up while smiling.

"Okay, I'm on my way. I'm glad you’re here Gerard,” Frank's mother pats him on his shoulder and then she's out the door. 

Gerard puts Frank's coat up and then his, and watches Frank go into the kitchen. 

"Hey, you okay?" Gerard asks. 

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"I know you just said that to your mother, but... was there something wrong?"

"It doesn't matter now,” Frank says not wanting to tell Gerard about his breakdown. 

"Okay. Do you want anything to drink?"

"There's bottled juices in there. Just grab me one, doesn't matter what kind. Get one for yourself too."

Gerard opens the refrigerator and grabs two juices like he was instructed. He comes out with a bottle of pomegranate and a bottle of apple. He decides to keep the apple for himself. 

"I have to run out to the car to get the groceries."

"Just do that in a bit. Just sit here for a second,” Frank says and he's more than shocked with himself. 

For some reason being back in his home and talking with his mother made him want to appreciate Gerard for a moment. He wants Gerard around and Frank knows right now is a better time than ever to give Gerard a little confirmation that he appreciates him. 

"I just wanted to...” Frank pauses and takes a deep breath. "This isn't easy for me. I just wanted to tell you... I want you around, because you make me forget all the bad, even for a little while."

It’s Gerard’s turn to blush, and sometimes, he kind of wishes Frank could see that so that he knows that Gerard’s not as confident as he makes himself out to be. Sure, there is something kind of nice about not having someone tease you when you turn pink, but then again, it’s also nice to have someone know that they have that effect on you. 

“I, uh, it’s nice to hear you say it,” Gerard says.

“You’re not going to hear me say it again.”

Gerard chuckles slightly, because he expected something like that from Frank. 

For another minute, it’s mostly just quiet while they stare at each other. Well, Gerard stares at Frank who’s looking straight ahead like he sees something on the wall behind Gerard. Except he doesn’t.

The two of them just sort of stay there in a comfortable silence. They’re standing and patiently chasing that moment until it’s gone. It’s not necessarily unpleasant to be pushed back into reality, but then it feels kind of crappy when it sinks in to Frank that his head is writing stories to fill in the blanks of what’s happening right now.

For a split second, Frank imagines what it’d be like for Gerard to just grab him and kiss him. The image floods his head, except it’s not an image, it’s more of a sensory trip that excludes the whole sight thing. 

He can imagine what Gerard would feel like. He’d be warm and his hands would be strong. They’d probably be in Frank’s hair or his neck or somewhere that would make Frank forget where his legs and feet are. He would probably feel all wobbly and yet he’d be stock-still, not daring to move the tiniest bit. 

He can imagine what Gerard would smell like. He’d smell like his chemically shampoo, and possibly like the inside of the comic store, which is sort of similar to the inside of a bookstore, but it’s different somehow. Or maybe he’d smell a little like coffee. That wouldn’t surprise Frank.

He can imagine the whole world going quiet when Gerard would kiss him. All the white noise, all the background noise that you hear on a daily basis but don’t notice after a while, would just fade away and it would be complete and utter silence. No planes flying overhead, no cars driving down the street, no breathing of an old house. There would be no sound of air conditioning or heating filling the room, or the sound of nervous feet on the laminate flooring. Only the sound of his own heartbeat. 

He can imagine what Gerard would taste like. He’d taste like his cherry chap stick. Come to think of it, he’d probably taste like coffee too. Or maybe he’d taste minty, or like whatever he just ate.

Frank can imagine everything, he really can. He just can’t picture Gerard’s _face_. It’s like a word at the tip of his tongue or a trivia answer that just escapes you. He can get so close to building that picture but then it goes away.

“God, I wish I could see you,” Frank bursts out. He doesn’t recall telling his mouth to say that, but it’s not like it’s untrue. The words are gone though, and it’s too late to bite them down.

Gerard understands that those words were insanely raw. Kind of like those deep thoughts that we don’t let anyone ever know, but sometimes we just let those things go when we can’t handle them anymore. 

“Someday you will.”

“You sound like my mother,” Frank says.

“Your mom is pretty smart.”

Frank doesn’t know what to say, or how to say whatever it is he has to say. He doesn’t know anything besides this weird yearning that he can’t seem to drown.

“You were, uh, going to get those groceries, right?”

“Yeah,” Gerard says, having forgotten all about that. “I should do that. I’ll be back in a sec, Frankie. You can start on your homework then!”

“Great,” Frank says sarcastically. He feels Gerard look at him critically for another moment before he starts walking and heads toward the door. Frank hears the difference in his footsteps as he steps off the tiled floor and onto the carpeted floor in the living room. The front door is pulled open a moment later and then he’s gone.

Frank tries to push away how deeply he just imagined kissing Gerard, because that was not okay. It was way not okay. It was nice. Really nice. Frank really enjoyed the idea, but he can’t enjoy the idea, because it’s not okay. Or maybe it is? Maybe Gerard liking him isn’t a bad thing, and maybe the honest truth that Frank likes him isn’t a bad thing either. Except Frank is so damn stubborn that he decides it must be a bad thing. 

Only it’s like his brain is at war with itself. Half of his brain is saying that liking Gerard can’t happen because he has to keep his guard up for people who want to hurt him or who want to get close to him. He can’t have friends, or, god forbid, a _boyfriend_ , because he’s learned too well what it means to have friends, and he’s teetering on the edge of that rabbit hole too much as it is. He’s gotten too close to way too many people, Gerard included, and it’s going to only end up hurting him in the end when one of them betrays him or hurts him some other way.

Then there’s the other side of his brain that’s telling him he should marry this son of a bitch yesterday and be done with it. This is the side of his brain that is really starting to like Gerard, and is making his heart flutter every time Gerard talks to him. It’s the side of his brain that refuses to give him oxygen when Gerard touches him.

The one side of his brain absolutely loathes the other, while the one that wants him to kiss Gerard is just trying to convince the distrustful side that it’s being unreasonable. Of course the distrustful side doesn’t trust the overly romantic side, so he’s not really getting anywhere.

Frank’s thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the door opening again and he remembers that he was supposed to do homework, so he shrugs his backpack onto the counter and unzips it quickly. He doesn’t want Gerard to think he was just daydreaming about him or anything. It wouldn’t be an untrue assumption, but Frank would rather not plant that seed in Gerard’s head.

“Okay, so should I just put the cold stuff in the refrigerator?” Gerard asks, as Frank takes a spot in one of the chairs at the table.

“Uh, I guess,” Frank says.

“Great,” Gerard says and he busies himself with that while Frank attends to the stupid math problems that he doesn’t give a shit about. After a couple minutes, Gerard finishes and he walks around to stand next to Frank, a little too closely. Frank can feel him looking over his shoulder and he’s also aware of Gerard’s breath on the back of his neck. It’s incredibly distracting.

“This shit looks hard,” Gerard says. 

“Are you just saying that because it’s all in bumps?” Frank asks.

“Nah, there’s print above that, but it still looks hard.”

“You only graduated a few years ago!”

“Yeah, but I sucked at math. I also sucked at science, English, history, gym, and home ec.”

“That’s basically all the classes there are,” Frank says.

“Yeah, well I was bad at everything,” Gerard replies.

“Should I be worried that you were bad at home ec. when we’re going to make pizza?” Frank asks, noticing somewhat of a flaw in that logic.

“What? Oh, no, it was the sewing I sucked at. I once sewed my own sweatshirt into the hat I was making. I wasn’t so bad at the cooking parts. I was the one who got to throw the spaghetti at the refrigerator to see if it was done,” Gerard says.

“I am so proud of you,” Frank says, shaking his head as Gerard laughs at the sarcasm filling Frank’s voice.

“Don’t mock the spaghetti thrower!”

“I’ll mock him all I want.”

“Hey,” Gerard says, and grabs Frank’s shoulder to turn him in Gerard’s direction, “you mock the spaghetti thrower and he just might throw spaghetti at you.”

Frank’s breath catches in his throat because he’s all of a sudden really close to Gerard. He’s like, really really close to Gerard. Frank can feel Gerard’s breath on his face only inches away. He’s so close that if they were at the prom in a Catholic school, a teacher would pull them away from each other and they’d be put on opposite sides of the room. He’s that close.

Suddenly the romantic side of Frank’s head is reappearing again, but this time, it’s picturing Frank himself grabbing Gerard and kissing him which is not going to happen obviously. It’s the first time Frank’s fantasized about himself making the first move though and it’s an off-putting feeling, that’s also really pleasant.

“Uh,” Gerard seems to realize he’s too close and he takes a small step back from Frank. Frank tries to clear his head, and agitates his feet underneath him. He stops to breathe and then goes back to the homework he’d been trying to do.

Frank's mind is reeling and he doesn't know how to stop it. Gerard is still standing over him, but he's not bent over him, which helps Frank a lot. Frank just wants to throw his book on the damn floor and let Gerard make out with him right there on the table. What? Frank's seen a few movies when he was younger that his mother would've beaten him for. 

Frank's body feels so hot he reaches for his juice. He grabs it, opens it quickly, and drinks it. Frank's well aware that the juice isn't helping all that much, but it doesn't stop him from drinking. Apparently he was more parched than he thought. Frank puts the juice down and ignores the way Gerard's eyes are peering into him to get back to his homework. 

Gerard is watching Frank with an almost unnoticeable smile on his face. Frank makes him so happy he doesn't know what to do with himself. Frank also makes him so weak he can't even fathom standing if they kiss. Yeah, again, he seems like the confident one, but he knows he'd crumble under Frank's touch. It's just something about him that makes him melt. 

Gerard doesn't even need Frank to touch him to feel like he's going to buckle and collapse. It's the way Frank's breathing shifts when they're just a little too close. The amazing way Frank raises one of his brows when he's intrigued on what's to come next of their closeness. The way Frank's lips part just a bit and he takes in a shuddery breath. All of that is what makes Gerard feel like ice cream on a summer's day. 

Gerard shakes his head softly and grabs the chair next to Frank. He sits down and scoots it close to Frank and he sees Frank's body seize up. Frank tries to shake it off, but there's that telltale reddening rising on Frank's neck to his cheeks. He's on fucking fire and Gerard knows it's because of him. Gerard pretends to ignore it and leans close to Frank again, looking at his homework. 

Gerard's so damn close his hair is touching Frank's face. It's brushing softly and Frank has to fight to not turn around and smash their lips together. He has to fight not to jump into Gerard's lap and press himself into Gerard. He's never felt so insanely turned on in his life before. He's never felt turned on before at all when he comes to think of it. 

Sure he's... you know, but he never did anything about it, because of someone else. It’s mostly because he's a damn teenager with needs. Frank doesn’t tend to have those needs frequently though. That's probably the problem Frank tries to tell himself. He knows full well Gerard's the only problem. Well, he's not a problem, but Frank wants him bad so that is definitely a problem. 

"You're smart huh?" Gerard asks breaking the silence. 

Frank shrugs and turns to Gerard a little. "It's the only thing teacher's like about me."

"A lot more people should like you," Gerard whispers and he gets a little brave by pushing his nose against Frank's jaw. 

"T-they d-d-don't-" Frank stops trying to talk to prevent sounding like an imbecile. The last thing he needs is a speech problem too. 

"What's that, Frankie?" Gerard asks in a low and alluring tone. 

Frank fucking shudders. He turns to look at Gerard and then instantly turns back to his homework when he hears the front door being opened. Gerard doesn't move away, but he does turn back to Frank's homework. 

"I'm back Frank-ie... oh," Frank's mother looks at the two boys sitting together at the table, and she instantly notices the blush on both of their cheeks. 

"Did you need the kitchen mother? I'm just about finished here," Frank asks in a voice way lower than normal. 

Frank's mother fights back a smirk. "You're fine son. You're not in the way at all."

"I bought ingredients to make pizza-" Gerard starts and Frank sends thank you waves to Gerard with his brain for starting a conversation. 

"Ohhhh no," Frank’s mom interrupts. 

"I promise I won't let anything happen to him," Gerard rushes out. 

"I can't take that chance. Sorry, Gerard," Frank's mother takes off her coat and goes to hang it up. 

"Told you," Frank says. 

"Just hold on."

Frank's mother walks back into the kitchen and goes over to the refrigerator. She sees the ingredients inside when she opens it, but ignores them, grabbing a juice, and then closing the refrigerator. 

"He doesn't have to cut anything. I got shredded cheese, and I'll open the tomato sauce, plus put the pizza in the oven. He'll be fine," Gerard tries to reason with her. 

"I don't know, Gerard."

"Please? I already told him I'd get you to say yes and he really wants this," Gerard says with a smile causing her to chuckle. 

"No I-" Frank starts. 

"Stop denying it," Gerard says and Frank sighs. "Please? We'll give you a piece."

"Hey now, you can't give away my pizza." 

"We'll have more than enough Frankie, hush," Gerard says in a quiet tone as if Frank's mother wasn't standing right there. 

She laughs and shakes her head at the boys, "Okay, but if anything happens to my boy, you will get hurt."

"I'm not worried about that, because I don't want anything to happen to him either," Gerard says grinning. 

"Alright then. I want my piece too, Frankie," she starts walking down the hallway. 

"Sure thing, mom," Frank says and then giggles.

Gerard looks over at Frank and grins, “I told you so.”

“You’re a miracle worker,” Frank says.

“What can I say? Moms love me.”

“That’s a superpower you have there,” Frank says.

“You’re one to talk, Daredevil.”

“Whatever comic boy,” Frank says, finishing off his last math problem. “I’m not sure I’m, uh, hungry yet.”

“No? Well then we have some time to kill,” Gerard says.

“Okay, uh, and what do you intend to do with that time?”

“Do you wanna go to your room?” Gerard asks.

“I, what? What’s wrong with out here?”

“Nothing, it’s just more private in your room,” Gerard says.

“Why do we need privacy?” Frank asks, his voice coming out a little squeakier than he would have liked it to. Gerard tries not to laugh at it.

“Just ‘cause.”

“Uh, okay?” Frank says, and then the half of his brain that doesn’t like Gerard’s presence at all starts throwing a temper tantrum. Frank shuts it up, because most of him right now wants to listen to the part of him that wants to be really near Gerard.

“Come on then,” Gerard says and Frank stands up, slowly. He feels Gerard grab at his hand for a moment, and Frank almost wants to drop the hand like a game of hot potato, but he doesn’t. He just lets Gerard take it, and drag him into his own bedroom. There’s the soft sound of the door closing and then Frank is alone in his room with Gerard.

Frank has only one thought going through his head and that is, ‘oh fuck.’

Frank knows his own room well enough not to use his cane, so he walks over until he finds the desk chair, because there’s not a chance in hell he’s going to go sit on his bed with Gerard right next to him. The last thing he needs is to give Gerard an excuse to get even closer to him.

Gerard notices Frank’s subtle yet very transparent motion to get away from him, and he just rolls his eyes, taking a spot on Frank’s bed.

“So, what do you wanna do then?” Gerard asks.

“I don’t know. This is your show, I’ll let you decide that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with just talking.”

“Talking?” Frank asks, “Or, uh, you know, there’s like TV or you could read me comics or something?”

“I didn’t bring any comics with me.”

Frank curses internally, because there’s something terrifying about being stuck in conversation with Gerard. Not that he doesn’t want to talk to him, he’s just petrified that he’s going to let something slip or say too much.

“Well there’s TV.”

“But, uh, I mean, you can’t see the TV.”

“I can still appreciate TV,” Frank says, “like, I can still pick up on what people are saying and put the story together from there.”

“You trying to avoid talking to me?” Gerard asks, seeing straight through Frank.

“What? No,” he says firmly.

“Then let’s talk,” Gerard says.

“A-about what?”

“Whatever.”

Frank sighs and then says, “how about you talk and I listen.”

“Uh, okay,” Gerard says, “What do you want to know?”

“I don’t know, do I?” Frank says, “Uh, anything. I don’t care. Give me dirt on Mikey or something.”

Gerard chuckles, “Mikey? Let’s see. Well, Mikey’s afraid of sharks you know.”

“I do, actually.”

“You do?” Gerard asks, “Well that’s the only thing that came to mind when you asked for dirt. He once got dumped by a girl because she didn’t like his taste in music.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, he was like twelve, but still. I thought it was amusing,” Gerard says.

“Okay,” Frank says, “So then what about you? Tell me about you.”

“Me?” Gerard says and he contemplates for a little while, “I really like bad horror movies. The more fake blood the better.”

Frank shrugs, “I like comedies. They’re the easiest to understand. Like with action you miss stuff if you can’t see it. With horror movies, you only know something bad is happening when the violins pick up and then there’s a bunch of screaming. Comedies are pretty easy. You just have to listen to them make bad jokes that somehow make you laugh.”

“What about rom coms? Do you like them?”

“Not really. They’re all very arbitrary and predictable. Also, usually the only thing that helps you believe the two characters fall in love is that they’re both physically attractive, but when you can’t see them, it’s so much harder to buy it. Like, you wouldn’t believe how bland the dialogue is until you’ve had to watch a rom com without the visual aid,” Frank says.

Gerard somehow gets Frank to rant about movies for another hour. Frank’s not even aware that he does it, he just knows that one minute he’s talking about how boring Jurassic Park is when you can’t see it, to how good he found Austin Powers. Frank’s basis for movies is a little different than other people because he has to rate them on level of dialogue quality more than anything else, and if the dialogue isn’t strong as hell, he just doesn’t enjoy it.

“It’s getting close to dinner time,” Gerard says.

“What, really?” Frank asks. “I didn’t know so much time had passed.”

He only realizes that it has been a little while when his stomach growls.

"Maybe we should get to that then," Gerard says. 

"Yeah."

"Just one thing, Frankie," Gerard stands up and walks over to Frank. 

Frank feels Gerard crowding him and can't keep the butterflies in his stomach at bay. He's so tired of not being able to breathe, but if it's due to Gerard's presence that makes it a little better. Frank feels Gerard's hands clutch his and he takes in a shaky breath. Gerard pulls Frank up and they're face to face. Well, they would be if Frank wasn't so short. 

Gerard's standing there looking at Frank and he loves how cute he looks staring back up at him. Gerard realizes that after all this time Frank's probably not going to answer him back. He squeezes Frank's hands lightly and notices Frank does it back, but only slightly. 

"What would you do if I kissed you?" Gerard watches Frank lick his lips slowly and he knows it's on reflex. 

Gerard is well aware that Frank is probably letting his mind wander off somewhere else. Gerard's mind is trailing off too, so he doesn't blame Frank. He's thinking about just leaning in and kissing him, but he doesn't want to chance upsetting Frank. 

"I-I... I guess we'd have to see. I probably wouldn't have minded it now if you didn't ask. I would like to be caught off guard more, but still know it's coming without you asking," Frank doesn't even know if what he said makes sense, but that's as good as it's going to get with Gerard breathing on his lips. 

Gerard leans into Frank's ear and whispers, "I'll remember that." He steps back and turns Frank until his back is against Gerard's stomach. 

Gerard has his arms around Frank's waist and his lips on Frank's neck. Frank let's out an embarrassing whimper and Gerard smiles against his neck. 

"I hope you know you give me the same feeling that I give you," Gerard kisses Frank's neck and then starts walking them towards the door. 

Frank is barely aware that he's moving. He faintly hears the quiet shuffling of their sneakers against carpet and he knows they aren't still. It's kind of like he's floating. It's a very weird, but pleasant feeling that he's not going to admit to Gerard. Frank thinks he's being silly, because Gerard already knows. 

Frank realizes what Gerard said and smiles. The thought of Frank making Gerard feel like this makes Frank feel fucking ecstatic inside. Gerard's arm comes from around him and he feels the wind as the door breezes by him. Gerard guides them out the room with his arm still around Frank. Frank’s sure he’ll figure how to breathe again sooner or later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment?


	20. His Name Is Frank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So close, but not quite.

If someone had told Frank a month ago that he'd be enjoying his life, even just a little bit, he would've told them that they're lying. Here he is now though, in his room, having pizza with his mom and Gerard. Frank would be a liar if he said he wasn't enjoying himself. 

"That was very good," Frank's mother says once she's finished swallowing the last of her pizza. "You guys did great."

"Told you everything would be fine," Gerard says. 

"Yeah yeah. Don't think I'll be allowing him to open a pizzeria now," she says. 

"Why not, we're Italian? Gerard will be my eyes. I think we could get a good operation going," Frank laughs and Gerard and his mother joins in the laughter, shaking their heads fondly. 

"As if Frankie, as if," Frank's mother brushes her hands onto her pants and stands up. "I think it's time for me to go get some work done around here. Thanks for the pizza."

"You can take a slice with you," Frank offers, and his mom is astonished. 

"I don't know what you're doing Gerard..." she bends down to take another slice, "but keep it up. Frank doesn't share pizza."

"Yeah, you can go now," Frank says. His mother and Gerard burst into laughter again. 

"I'm going, I'm going," she bends over to kiss Frank on his forehead, with him pulling away slightly, and her rolling her eyes. 

With that she's out of the room and they're alone... again. Gerard smiles as Frank picks up a huge glob of cheese and stuffs it into his mouth. He's never come across someone who loves pizza as much as Frank does, but it's fucking adorable to say the least. Gerard watches, very impressed, as Frank tackles half of the pizza on his own. Frank is now down to his last two slices, and Gerard knows he isn't going to stop there.

"So, I was thinking..." Frank starts and Gerard looks at him curiously, "When I'm done with my pizza, you should hand some of yours over."

Gerard laughs and transfers two of his pieces over to Frank's plate. "I just gave you two of my last three. You should consider yourself special, because I don't share pizza either."

"I'm flattered," Frank says in a mocking tone and puts his hand to his chest momentarily. Within seconds he's back to eating his pizza. 

Gerard sighs and Frank turns his head to him. Frank does that thing with his eyebrow, which drives Gerard insane for some unknown reason; it's just an eyebrow lift. There's just something about the perfect way Frank's brow arches that kills Gerard a little inside each time Frank does it. 

"What is it?" Frank asks after moments of getting silence from Gerard. 

"Nothing. Enjoy your pizza," Gerard gives him a soft smile, that Frank obviously doesn't see. 

"You have been here with me for long enough to know that I have enjoyed my pizza," Frank says, clearly waiting for Gerard to say something. Gerard just sighs in response though.

Frank sits there gnawing on his lip nervously. Did he unknowingly do or say something that annoyed Gerard? Was he being too greedy, and Gerard wants his pizza back?

Gerard can see worry etched across Frank's features. The sigh wasn't a bad one at all, it was a content one. He's just glad that he can make Frank feel good, and he's glad he doesn't have to force Frank into it at this moment. 

"If you want your pizza back-" Frank is cut off by Gerard's honking laugh, and if Frank wasn't so worried, he'd think that was the cutest sound ever. 

"I don't want my pizza back, Frankie. It was a content sigh. I'm just glad you're enjoying yourself. The pizza, my company, your mother's. I'm just happy that you're happy, or so it seems," Gerard pauses and then looks at Frank again, "Are you happy?"

"I-I'm okay," Frank stutters, because there's still a stubborn part of him that doesn't want to admit that Gerard's good for him. 

"Oh, come on now, Frankie!" Gerard throws his hands in the air and rolls his eyes. 

"What?"

"Don't do that crap."

"Do what crap?"

"Don't take steps back now. Just... say you're happy. At least for me."

"Why would I do something for you?"

Gerard looks at Frank with a shocked expression. Gerard's only done so much for him, and all he wants in return is to know that Frank's happy, and he's acting stubborn. Gerard knows this is how Frank acts, but right now he thought they made some progress, and he wouldn't do it at least for the rest of the day. It's not that Gerard's expecting anything from Frank in return, because he's not, but just that little thing would make him happy. Hearing Frank say that he's happy from his own mouth would mean so much. 

Frank feels like an ass for saying what he said, and how he said it. He's not going to take it back though. Frank isn't going to admit that he's happy, because he knows it's going to be ripped right from under him tomorrow at school. Bullies, and stupid teachers who don't give a shit about anyone but themselves, are all going to ruin everything, so why would he set himself up like that?

"It's okay, you don't have to say it. I just thought... it's fine," Gerard finishes and picks at his pizza. 

Gerard looks at Frank when he hears him mumble something, but he doesn't quite catch it. 

"What was that?" Gerard inclines. 

"I'm sorry. You just don't understand," Frank says quietly. 

"I understand completely Frank-" Gerard's cut off by Frank's words. 

"I just can't say that right now."

"You can't or you won't?" Gerard asks in a tone more harsh than he anticipated. Frank turns away from Gerard, and instantly Gerard feels bad. "I know what you're thinking Frank. You may think I don't, but I do. We have talked about these things. All you have to do is say you're happy."

"But I'm not! This right here," Frank points between himself and Gerard, "this right here is why I won't say it. Within two seconds everything has gone to shit."

"Because of you," Gerard says and Frank jumps back like he was struck by a force field, with his brows raised so high they almost come off his face completely. "Look, I just mean that... had you just said you were happy, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Frank scoffs and shakes his head. 

"Just say it, Frankie. Please? That's all I want from you right now," Gerard moves closer to Frank and Frank moves back from him. Gerard sighs and runs his hand through his hair. "It's not as bad as you're making it. All you have to do is say it. Allow yourself to be happy, even if it's just for right now. Embrace it, Frankie." 

Gerard moves over to Frank again, but this time Frank doesn't move. Gerard takes Frank's hands in his and looks at him for a moment. 

"Please say it. I gave you my pizza," Gerard whispers and Frank chuckles and turns away. 

"Don't turn away. You know I love to see you smile. Now all you have to do is say you're happy," Gerard pulls Frank's hands up to his face and kisses each one. He then rubs his thumbs across Frank's knuckles. "Say it, for me."

Gerard realizes that he's on his hands and knees begging Frank for this one thing. He doesn't want to pressure Frank, but he knows Frank's happy, and he just wants to hear him say it just this once. He almost chokes on his tongue when Frank finally speaks.

"Right now, I'm happy," Frank whispers, because just as Gerard noticed he was begging, Frank did too. 

Frank's aware that Gerard is groveling right now, for something that seems so simple, but it's not for Frank. Frank's also aware of his feelings, even if he's denying them, he can suck it up for now. Gerard didn't have to do this for him, he didn't have to do anything, but he did, so Frank gave him what he wanted.

Gerard smiles and his heart unclenches a little bit at the sound of Frank’s words. He lets Frank’s hands go lightly, not wanting to stop feeling him, but also uncertain of whether Frank’s alright with it.

“I just... Frank, you know I really like you.”

“You’ve made that abundantly clear,” Frank replies, but he doesn’t sound rude about it, it’s more like he’s stating a fact.

“Yeah, well basically I just want you to not be afraid of me. Or, not necessarily afraid of me, like you think I’m a villain, I want you to not be afraid of the fact that I like you. The fact that I like you and I think you might like me. I don’t want you to force yourself to be afraid of having feelings for me or for anyone.”

“I’ve spent most of my life bottling things up,” Frank says.

“What I have learned from life is that we all spend about ten to fifteen years building up knowledge of the world, and from then on, we have to unlearn the things we’ve learned to banish our cowardliness. What I mean to say is that we learn all these problematic things and we assimilate them, and then we have to grow up and realize that a lot of the things we know, or think we know, are wrong. If we don’t move on from the things we once thought, then we don’t evolve. It takes time to unlearn the things we thought, but we have to try. 

“I don’t expect you to just open up to me overnight, Frank. I can’t make that happen, and if I could, I don’t think I would, because it’s not my desire to _change_ who you are. I’m just saying that, you’ve learned some things over your life, learned how to be self-contained and private, but it’s about time you try to fix the way you see other people. Not everyone is trustworthy, no. Not everyone is sane, or thinks rationally. Not everyone gives other people’s best interests a thought. You’ve got to be willing to find out though, otherwise you end up alone.”

“That’s a long winded way of saying you think I’m a coward,” Frank says.

“I don’t think you’re a coward, Frankie. I would never say that to you. I think you’re naïve, and still haven’t fully grown into who you will be someday. I think you’re somewhat cynical, but I also think you’re charming. I think you’re an inherently good person, who cares for others, but just doesn’t like to admit it. I admire how strong you are, and how you have the nerve to still be who you are even if it can put you into some scary situations. I just don’t want you to water down your personality to keep yourself safe. Everyone has to take risks otherwise we never step out of our front door,” Gerard replies.

“I don’t know what I’m doing yet, Gerard,” Frank admits, “I don’t know what life I have ahead of me, or how I’m going to get by. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do this, and I am so fucking terrified of never being able to be my own person. I have to depend on others and it’s scary knowing that I may never have any of the freedom I desire.”

“I can’t imagine.”

“No, I highly doubt you could. It’s just that... I don’t know how to say it, with you, when I’m with you, sometimes, I forget. Like, you distract me. You make me forget for the smallest amount of time that I’m not like everyone else,” Frank says.

“Why would you ever want to be like anyone else, Frankie? Everyone else is boring and worn out. You’re pretty special though.”

“I don’t want to be special just because I’m blind.”

Gerard shakes his head, “that’s not what makes you special.”

“Then what is it?”

“You just are,” Gerard says, “I can’t describe it to you. It’s like trying to describe an emotion to someone. I can’t just tell you, it’s something I feel.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“You know that I’m not,” Gerard says, leaning a little closer to Frank. Frank can feel the small amount of space shorten between them, and for fucks sake, he’s having trouble breathing again. Why does this keep happening to him? Maybe he’s allergic to Gerard or something, because he has short and wheezy breaths whenever Gerard gets too close. That’s not normal. People just don’t make you stop breathing.

“I,” Frank starts, but then he drifts off because he knows Gerard is so close to him it’s probably not even possible to measure the distance. It’s almost like Frank can actually feel Gerard pressed against him. He’s not, but it feels like that. It’s the way that Gerard’s aura seems to be bigger than Gerard himself, like he has this whole space around him that is also a part of him even if it actually isn’t. Like an invisible shield of some sort. 

“I didn’t catch that,” Gerard says.

“That’s because I didn’t say anything,” Frank answers, and his whole body has gone stiff. He’s not sure what to do with himself, but his body refuses to let him lean back. 

“There’s something really important that I need to ask you right now, Frankie.”

“What’s that?” Frank asks, hating the sound of his own voice compared to Gerard’s. Gerard can make everything sound graceful and pretty, but Frank just sounds like a kid.

“Can I kiss you right now?”

Frank blinks a few times nervously before saying, “No.”

“No?” Gerard asks, with sadness in his voice.

“Yeah. I mean, you could’ve, but you ruined the moment. There’s nothing romantic about asking if you can kiss someone. We’ve been through this already, Gerard.”

“You’re not going to let me kiss you just because I asked?”

“Precisely.”

“So does that mean I am allowed to at some point in the future?” Gerard questions.

“I told you this already, I’m sure of it.” 

“Clarify it for me, would you?”

Frank sighs, and shakes his head, “There’s just no skill. You’re just going to have to do better, Gerard.”

Gerard narrows his eyes at Frank and tries not to smile at his words. “I’m taking that as a yes.”

Frank shrugs, but he doesn’t say no, or try to correct Gerard. 

"Well..." Gerard stops what he's about to say, remembering what Frank had just said, and leans in a little closer. 

When Gerard's lips touch the corner of Frank's mouth he feels his breathing, along with Frank's stop altogether. It's not even a kiss on the lips, but it doesn't stop either of them from blushing, and it doesn't start their breathing again.

There's so many noises Frank has to swallow before he embarrasses himself. There's no way he'll let himself whimper like he did hours ago. It's such a simple movement, Frank shouldn't be fighting back a moan; a fucking moan. All Gerard did was kiss his cheek, and a small part of his lips. It would be considered teetering on the side of inappropriate, but not. It was like one of those accidental kisses that happen, but it doesn't fully, when two people turn for a cheek kiss at the same time. 

Gerard moves to sit next to Frank, and he's shocked when Frank puts his head on his shoulder. Gerard smiles, and holds back the urge to kiss Frank's forehead. That one kiss was enough. He doesn't want to push up on Frank, though he kind of has the go ahead. Gerard could kiss him right now if he wants to, and God does he want to, but he knows it's too soon after asking and being told no. 

"You give me a feeling I never thought I'd feel before," Frank says.

"I'm glad to know that. You give me a feeling that shows me what it truly means to want to be with someone forever."

"Forever? Gerard..."

"I'm not going to ask you to marry me, calm down. I haven't even kissed you yet. If things go my way though, I will be asking you one day."

"You think so?" Frank asks.

"I know so."

"Isn't same sex marriage illegal here?"

Gerard just shrugs, "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas."

"I will not cheapen our wedding to that!" Frank says and giggles. " _If_ we get married."

"Shut up, Frank."

"Okay," he says. Frank can feel Gerard smiling at him, and he smiles back. 

"I should be going in about another hour."

"Okay."

Frank will never admit it, but his heart just sank a little.

“You going to gossip to Mikey about me?” Frank asks.

“Not if you don’t want me to,” Gerard replies.

“I don’t know. Mikey already thinks we’re getting married.”

“Well he’s not wrong.”

“Gerard,” Frank scoffs, “You’re so stubborn. I don’t even understand it.”

“You never denied anything,” Gerard reminds him, and Frank sighs, because Gerard does have a point on that one. He hasn’t denied anything. Or at least, not to Gerard. It’s different denying things to Mikey and the others because they’re mostly just joking when they say things like that, but not Gerard. Gerard seems to really believe the stories himself and that really excites Frank.

“I doubt you’d let me deny anything,” Frank says finally.

Gerard chuckles slightly and rests his head on top of Frank’s, whose skull is somewhat uncomfortable against his, but what matters is that it’s Frank who has decided his shoulder is a good pillow. Nothing matters besides that, in Gerard’s opinion.

“I’m not forcing you to do anything,” Gerard says, “You have every right to deny that you don’t like me. You have every right to say I don’t make a damn good pizza, and you have every right to tell me that you wouldn’t marry me in a million years. I haven’t heard any of those things come out of your mouth though.”

“Hey,” Frank says, “I helped you make that pizza.”

“That you did,” Gerard confirms, and he smiles about as wide as he possibly can, because right now everything in the world is perfect. It’s not actually, and he knows that, but right now, everything is just right. There’s nothing he would change if he could.

Gerard obviously wants to just kiss Frank and keep kissing him for the rest of his life, but at the same time, this is great too. It’s innocent, Frank’s just got his head on Gerard’s shoulder like they’re watching a movie or something, and it’s the tiniest sign of trust but that’s enough for Gerard.

And Frank knows that someday, and he’s sure it’s someday very very soon, Gerard’s going to be his first kiss. If he didn’t know that a day ago, he knows it today, and he doesn’t know why that’s so scary, but also so calming. There’s something reassuring about it in a way. He feels really old though, given that he’s eighteen and he hasn’t kissed anyone, but he does have an excuse. Whether it’s a good one or not is up for debate, but it’s an excuse all the same. 

Frank wants it though, which his weird because he’d never thought he’d want to kiss anyone, and in barely any time at all Gerard has shown him that he was so wrong. Of course he wants to kiss someone, he wants to kiss Gerard. Gerard’s sure that that’s only the smallest of things Frank wants. Frank can practically see the gears turning in Gerard’s mind. 

Gerard seems to think that Frank wants everything, basically all of his firsts, to be Gerard. Frank’s not denying anything, but that’s mostly because he’s content with letting Gerard have his fantasies for now. They’re young, they can be stupid and make mistakes all they want. He’ll let Gerard believe what he wants, because Frank kind of wants to pretend for now that maybe Gerard is right. Maybe he will marry this redheaded weirdo someday. He doubts it, because in all likelihood, Gerard will get bored of him by then, but it’s a great dream. It makes Frank feel a little less lonely if he allows himself to think that someone might actually like him, who he might actually like back.

“You are a very strange person, Gerard Way.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Yes,” Frank answers.

“You didn’t actually give me an answer.”

“The thing about being blind is that everyone’s pretty basic when it comes down to it,” Frank starts, “like, I can have most, if not all people figured out within a couple of minutes. People are very basic, especially when you don’t get distracted by facial expressions, hand gestures, and things like that. So people are just really fucking transparent, which is weird because I can’t fucking see things, but I see right through everyone I meet. And then there’s you, and you never do what I expect you to do. You always say things that I don’t expect you to say, and it’s just really strange. You know, like, you’re just really strange. I still don’t get it.”

“You do not see through everyone,” Gerard says, sounding skeptical, “really? Is that true?” 

“It’s extremely true,” Frank says, “people are so easy. The only things they’re able to hide are whether they’re going to betray you or not, which is why I tend to avoid communication with people at all cost, but with you it’s like you don’t even fucking exist on a map. The only thing I’m picking up is that you’re just really strange and don’t make sense. Like, you’re the kind of guy on a cop show who totally seems like they did it because they’re so fucking hard to read, but then in the end, you were like, completely innocent.”

“What makes you think I can’t be the guy who did it?” Gerard asks, laughing.

“Well, I supposed that all depends on what ‘it’ is. I feel like you might be able to get away with murder if you tried to, but that’s’ not me inviting you to go experimenting, but I just think you’d be really hard to read.”

“Maybe it’s just _you_ that can’t read me.”

“Why would that be the case?”

“I like to think it’s because you like me so much that it throws you off,” Gerard says.

“You’re so arrogant,” Frank says.

“In a good way though, right?”

Frank shrugs, and shifts his head the smallest amount. “In a good way, yeah.”

"Looking back on my life, and the obstacles I've overcome, when I really just wanted to give up... it all led me to you. Every breakup I had was to lead me to you. I truly believe that. Mikey always told me 'they weren't meant to stay, because God has someone better for you.' I know I found that someone, I just have to convince him that it's true."

Frank whispers, "I don't think you'll have to do too much convincing."

Gerard reaches up and runs his finger down Frank's jawline. Gerard lets his hand fall after a few seconds, into his lap, and Frank slides his hand into Gerard's. Neither of them say anything, they just sort of sit there learning how to help one another breathe. A few minutes pass before either of them say anything. 

"Mikey said that?"

"Yeah, he's pretty wise when he wants to be."

Frank just nods slightly and closes his eyes, listening to Gerard's heartbeat, and hoping it's because of him that it's going so fast. 

“And do you think Mikey’s right?” Frank asks.

“Maybe the details are a little off, maybe I was just waiting to find that someone on my own without the help of anyone, or maybe it was fate, but I don’t know and I don’t fucking care,” Gerard says. “I guess, when you meet someone you like for the very first time it always feels like it’s going to last forever. Your first crush, it feels like they’re the one. All the rest of them feel like that too, but that’s not what you feel like. All those other people, and believe me when I say it wasn’t very many, they don’t even seem to exist anymore now that I’ve met you. Now that I know you, I don’t feel like any of them have any place in my life, not even in my memory, because all the times I thought I found ‘the one’ are shamed by the way I feel about you.”

“You’ve only known me for like a week,” Frank reminds him.

“There’s just something, and I can’t describe it. Some sort of, like, intuition I have. No one has ever made me believe I wanted them as much as you have, and you’ve done that in less than a week. For fucks sake, on a timeline, we barely know each other in the slightest. Like, we don’t know each other at all when you consider how long humanity has been a race, but at the same time, it’s so cliché, but it feels like I’ve known you forever. It feels like I just really need to see this to the end. I need to watch how this turns out, this friendship, or relationship, or partnership or whatever the hell kind of ship you and I are sailing. I just need to know you, more than I’ve ever needed to know anyone before. You make me feel like the stars have come alive, and I don’t care if it’s stupid, that doesn’t matter, because I like you. A lot. Like I can already tell you will mean everything to me one day. It’s not a normal instinct, I guess. It’s not normal in the slightest. I just _know_. You ever just know something that you can’t explain?”

“Yeah,” Frank nods, “I’m starting to get what you mean.”

“With you, it just sort of feels like I’m coming home.” 

“Half of the things you say are complete and utter bullshit from the wet dreams of a guy who doesn’t get enough action, and yet I still believe every word that comes out of your mouth.”

Gerard seems to find that funny as he laughs way too close to Frank’s ear, and kisses the top of his head. Frank’s just learned to accept that he can’t actually fight off the way he feels about Gerard. He’s been trying, still is, but there’s just something so hard about the prospect of so much pretending that he doesn’t like Gerard, it’s beginning to feel unneeded. Maybe it’s actually worth it to just let himself give into liking Gerard, and risk being hurt in the end.

That’s something that never occurred to Frank. He could just let people have complete access to his back and hand them the knife, but trust them enough to know that they won’t use it. He’s already letting Gerard in, and they both know that, but he’s so close to just forgetting to care about what happens if Gerard ends up hurting him.

“Gerard,” Frank says after a few minutes.

“Yeah?”

“You should pick me up after school tomorrow,” Frank says.

“I have to work tomorrow,” Gerard says.

Frank feels himself frown at those words, “oh.”

“Hey, don’t sound so glum. No one ever said that my break can’t coincide with when you get out.”

“Oh really?” Frank asks.

“Yeah,” Gerard says, “in fact, I’m basically allowed to take my break whenever I so wish it, so maybe it can always happen to be right around when you get out.”

“You would do that?” Frank asks.

“Well quite possibly the best thing that ever happened to me happened while I was on a break, so I’m curious to see if that trend continues.”

“Oh? And what was this event that happened?”

Gerard smirks, “I met this guy in a mall cafeteria. He’s pretty sweet. He’s incredibly cynical though, but he’s nice. You would like him.”

“He sounds annoying.”

“He is, but he’s the good kind of annoying.”

“There’s a good kind of annoying?” 

“His name is Frank,” Gerard replies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you want to comment maybe? I think you should, we'd appreciate it.


	21. Almost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even closer still.

“So how was your date last night?” Patrick asks, sliding into the seat beside Frank.

“What date last night?”

“The one you had with Gerard,” Patrick clarifies.

“I didn’t have a date with Gerard last night,” Frank answers.

“So what did you do last night then?”

“I hung out with Gerard. But it wasn’t a date. I mean, of course it wasn’t. You know it wasn’t a date. Since when would I ever date someone?”

“My guess is that you would definitely date someone if their name was Gerard, and they had bright red hair,” Patrick replies.

“Well, it’s none of your business,” Frank says, crossing his arms and slouching. The last thing he needs is for Patrick, the guy who’s supposed to be so sweet he apologizes to doorframes for stubbing his toe on them, to start making fun of him.

“Is that your way of asking me to shut up?” Patrick asks.

“Yep,” Frank replies.

“Okay then. Whatever you say.”

“Don’t take that tone! Now you sound like you don’t believe a word I’m saying. It wasn’t a date. Gerard and I just ate pizza. How is that a date? It’s not!”

“Well, maybe not under different circumstances, but given the fact that Gerard is attracted to you, and you to Gerard, I’d call that a date.”

“I’m not attracted to Gerard. Why should I be?” Frank asks, “I can’t even see him!”

“But that doesn’t mean you’re not attracted to him,” Patrick answers.

“Well forgive me for my stupid question, but what the hell does attraction mean then?”

“It’s not always about looks, Frank. If it’s about looks than you have to add the word ‘physical’ to the front of it. Physical attraction is different from attraction.”

“Well, I mean, it’s really none of your concern how I feel about Gerard, is it?” Frank says.

“Whatever,” Patrick says, and god, Frank can literally feel his eyes rolling.

“Shut up,” Frank huffs. “But, like, okay, so suppose I did like Gerard.”

“Oh no, you’re about to do these stupid hypotheticals aren’t you?”

“Just, roll with it, kay?”

“I’m going to regret this. Alright, go on. Suppose you did like Gerard, what comes next?”

Frank groans, “Well suppose I did like him, and suppose I’ve never kissed anyone before, because no one wants to make out with a blind guy.”

“You’ve never kissed anyone?” Patrick asks, incredulously.

“Oh hey, might I get you a bullhorn, I don’t think people in the next town over heard that? Is it that hard to believe, I mean, I don’t actually know that many people, and the people I do know are all greatly annoyed by everything I say. I haven’t been trying, really.”

“Alright sorry. I’m not judging. Go on. So suppose you’ve never kissed anyone then?”

“Well, yeah, suppose that was true, and suppose that it’s true that I did like Gerard. Is it weird that, or I mean, would it be weird if Gerard asked me if he could maybe kiss me, and I told him no, because that’s seriously not romantic, because like seriously? How uncool is it to ask a guy if you can kiss them? So like, if that did happen, and I’m not saying it did, because it didn’t, but if it did, would it be weird that I’m somewhat extremely nervous for the fact that Gerard might have plans to kiss me?”

“Okay, so you lost me about half way there, but I think I get what you’re saying kind of. So basically you’re afraid of having your first kiss and you think Gerard plans to kiss you?”

“Hypothetically,” Frank corrects.

“Yes, right. So hypothetically?”

“Yep.”

Patrick exhales and starts, “Well is it that you’re nervous to kiss someone in general because you’ve never kissed anyone or is it because we’re talking about Gerard specifically? Or do you not want to kiss him at all-”

“No!” Frank says a little too quickly and then mentally slaps himself in the face. “I mean, if I did like him, which I don’t, but if I did, than I’d want to kiss him. So, in this hypothetical situation, suppose I do really want to kiss Gerard but I’m still really scared of it.”

“Well why are you scared?”

“I don’t know! I just am. Like, I don’t know why. I’ve never... ugh, what if I’m a bad kisser?” Frank says.

“Well, we’re not going to know about that one until you get feedback from Gerard,” Patrick says.

“Why on earth would I kiss Gerard?” Frank asks, and it makes Patrick want so much to just smash his head against a keyboard.

“I don’t even know what to do with you. Like, you’re so stuck in denial that it’s almost not even funny anymore.”

"Well that's good, because it was never supposed to be a joke," Frank states and Patrick sighs. 

"Look, if you want to kiss him, do it. If not, don't lead him on. That's a horrible thing to do to someone."

"I never said... this is hypothetically," Frank reminds Patrick. 

"Your version is. Mine is reality. I'm done playing your little game, Frank."

"Who pissed in your Cheerios?"

"You, with your hypothetical bull crap." 

"If I recall I came nowhere near your Cheerios this morning or any other morning,” Frank replies.

“And I’d thank you kindly not to ever come near any of my breakfast cereals ever,” Patrick says.

“Party pooper,” Frank murmurs, and then he feels the bus lurch familiarly and he sighs because now he has to face the day. He doesn’t get to see Gerard for another several hours and he really wants to, and his life is so hard.

“So are you going to kiss him then?” Patrick asks when they get off the bus. He holds onto Frank’s elbow to steer him away from the ice.

“Ugh, okay, I don’t know. I’m just, like, nervous, but not nervous, and excited, but anxious, and fucking hell, I don’t even know if I’m a good kisser. What if I’m really shitty? What if Gerard just walks around making out with all the blind kids and I’m nothing special? What if I don’t kiss back enough or too much? There’s just a lot of fucking variables, okay?”

“You’re making half of those up.”

“I’m new to this. I mean, if I wanted to kiss him, that is.”

“You’re unbelievable, Frank. You would go to the ends of the earth to deny that you have feelings for him. You’re not fooling me! Listen, I won’t tell anyone if you tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“That you like Gerard,” Patrick clarifies. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Frank says, putting his nose up as they enter the school. He shakes Patrick’s hand away and tries to navigate through the swarm of other students making their way through the doors, but he’s not really doing a very good job of losing Patrick. Thing is, when you can’t see where you’re going, you are easily followed. Patrick may be small enough to be stepped on by many of the other people walking around them, but he’s got perseverance.

“So then, tell me, are you in fact meeting Gerard again tonight?”

“That’s a possibility,” Frank shrugs, “but I don’t see why that’s any of your concern.”

“So maybe then you could just make a move and-”

“Okay, that’s the stupidest thing you’ve said yet. Patrick, I can’t see where his fucking face is. If I wanted to kiss him, I’d probably hit my nose against his ear. Gerard’s got things all figured out, I’m sure he’d make the first move anyway. Actually, I’m positive. And I’m not going to attempt to try getting their first. Or, I mean, I wouldn’t if this were an actual scenario that were to actually happen, but as I do not like him, it obviously will not happen.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Patrick says. “So, if he does kiss you then, are you going to deny it to us, because that is so not fair? We’re you’re frien... I mean, acquaintances, we should get to know if you just so happen to make out with Mikey’s brother.” 

“Whoa stop,” someone says and Frank’s heart falls a little bit as he recognizes the voice. “What’s this about making out with my brother?”

“Frankie, I didn’t know you were that promiscuous,” someone else, Brendon, says. Frank wonders if those two are attached at the hip or something, because he never seems to find one without the other beside him. 

“I didn’t kiss anyone!” Frank says.

“Besides maybe his pillow,” Patrick says with a shrug and Frank whacks him with his cane. “Ow!”

“Shut it!”

“So you kissed Gerard then?” Mikey asks.

“No!”

“He wants to!” Patrick adds.

“Patrick! I thought you said that things would stay in confidence,” Frank hisses.

“Uh, I think if the court reporter reads back what I said you will find that I told you that if and only if you’d admitted to actually liking the guy, so given that you never did actually admit to anything, I didn’t in fact, perjure myself.”

“Since when did you become a lawyer?” Brendon asks.

“I just don’t trust Frank messing with my words. He has more of a vantage point to dissect what people say. I mean, I don’t know what’s going on up there. I think he’s got a little grammar Nazi living up in his head.”

“So, we agree that you want to kiss Gerard,” Mikey says, and Frank desperately wants to just get to his first period class to escape this interrogation.

“I think we can all agree that that’s true,” Brendon nods his head.

“Ahem,” Frank says.

“We can all agree that’s true except for Frank who’s got his head stuck in denial.”

“So have you or have you not kissed my brother then?”

“I haven’t and I don’t intend to,” Frank replies.

“Oh he definitely intends to,” Patrick interjects.

“Patrick, say that one more time and I will rip your mouth off and then put it back upside down.”

“Now Frankie, getting kind of defensive are we?” Brendon teases, “You know what kind of person gets all defensive like that? Someone who’s hiding something.”

"I'm not... I just..." Frank stutters, "Why is it anyone's business? Just leave me alone about Gerard please?"

"Why should we when you can't even just admit that you like him?" Mikey asks with a raised brow and his hands on his hips. 

"Has it ever occurred to you that I don't tell you anything, because you'll only tease me further? I'm tired of the teasing," Frank says and drops his bag on the floor. "Could you please open my darn locker, Patrick?"

Patrick starts opening the locker without a word and Frank bends over, and picks up his bag to shove it in his locker when it's opened. 

"Has it ever occurred to you that we won't tease if you wouldn't act so immature about it? So you like Gerard. What's the big deal?" Mikey asks. 

Brendon and Patrick stand there staring at Frank waiting for an answer. Frank rolls his eyes in his head and closes his locker once he's got what he needs. Frank feels their eyes leaving imprints in him and he turns around with a loud sigh. 

"Someone lead me to class please?" Frank doesn't answer the question purposely, because he doesn't have a true answer.

“Yeah okay,” Mikey says, grabbing Frank’s shoulder and pulling him off in the direction he needs to go.

“I won’t test you on it, Frank. I mean, you know what, I’m his brother, so if anything, I’m asking you questions to get at _him_ rather than you. I have an obligation to tease the shit out of him, and he just so happened to pick the most ideal situation where he started to fall for a guy who I not only know, but talk to on a daily basis. It’s like a goldmine of mocking,” Mikey says.

“It’s just, I mean, invasive, you know?”

“If it really bothers you, I can try to stop, but Frank, you have to understand that there is literally know way for you to hide that you like Gerard. Like, I’m not saying that to be mean, or to make you cringe or anything, I’m just saying this as a fact. You like him. There is absolutely no hiding that. I’m not saying something you don’t already know. Whether you choose to admit to it or not does not change a thing. I know, you know, Patrick knows. Hell, Pete even knows and he’s oblivious to most things that go on around him.”

“I’m just a private person.”

“You’ve never had anyone to talk to, I think that’s the problem. Frank, just because you’ve had a god awful experience with some people doesn’t mean all the people you meet are trying to ruin your life. If I wanted to ruin your life, Brendon and I would have left you in that field a week ago. We’re not out to get you. And Gerard, fucking hell, he’s just a weirdo, because for some reason, he’s attached to the idea of being with you.”

“Really?”

“Oh my god yes. It’s seriously annoying. Like, half the time I talk to him he’s talking about you, and I swear to god, even when he’s rambling on about something else, he’s still thinking about you. It’s disgusting. You’ve charmed him pretty badly, and now he’s just been set to repeat all the same things about you, and when he learns new things about you it just gets worse.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Frank says.

“I’m not,” Mikey says, and they stop. Frank’s pretty good at knowing these halls by now, so he’s fairly sure that they’re standing in front of the right classroom. Frank wants to spend as much time outside of it as he can because once he goes in, he’s going to have to deal with Blake.

“Well, alright, so maybe I won’t admit to the whole truth. You’re not going to get that, because I still have some guts that I would like to keep inside myself rather than spilling them to you, if that’s alright. Just, um, it’s not entirely one-sided, I guess. The way Gerard feels, I mean.”

“Duh, I know that. But hearing you admit to it is a milestone worthy of a parade,” Mikey says.

“Yeah, but Mikey,” Frank turns to him, “You tell anyone I said that and I will make sure you never tell anyone another thing ever again.”

“You goona rip my mouth off like Patrick?”

“Much worse,” Frank replies, and he walks forward towards his classroom.

Frank walks into the class and the teacher decides to take the liberties of calling him out. 

"Nice of you to join us, Iero. Hurry along now."

"Was that supposed to be funny, because I can assure you it wasn't," Frank says dryly, and since he's familiarized himself with the path, he gets to his seat rather quickly. 

Ha takes his seat and hears Blake cough out an insult. The teacher pretends she doesn't hear it and starts boring the hell out of Frank. 

By the time the bell rings Frank's slouching far in his seat. He slides up and gathers his books together and his cane. He stands and makes his way through the aisle and students. Frank feels his shoulder being bumped much like in gym yesterday. He sighs heavily as he fumbles with his books. He drops his cane and someone kicks it away when he reaches for it. 

"Come on guys. That wasn't nice," a voice Frank has heard a few times speaks out. She's from the period they were just dismissed from. 

"It's okay. They can't help it if they were raised by wild animals," Frank says. She gives him his cane and he nods her a thank you. 

"He better stay out of my way," Blake says.

“I am like a foot and a half tall, how the hell do I get in your way?” Frank asks. Blake doesn’t respond, just pushes past him and Frank flips him off before heading down the hallway to his next class.

The day is routine, or at least, the new routine he’s grown accustomed to at this school. Nothing all that exciting happens. Everyone teases Pete rather than Frank at lunch, and it’s all pretty much average and uninteresting at best.

Then, when the end of the day finally comes like a merciful cloud on a blisteringly hot day, Frank doesn’t hesitate to make a beeline for his locker. He shoves the things he’ll need later into his backpack and he waits until he hears the familiar voice of Brendon coming up behind him.

Evidently, Brendon thinks Frank is already done with putting his stuff away. Now, that’s true, but only because Frank did it all incredibly quickly, so he _should_ still have shit to take care of, but he’s not going to complain. Even if he wanted to, Brendon is strong. His grip is like titanium.

“Where are we going now?” Frank asks.

“You know already,” Brendon says, and yeah, Frank does know. He’s already agreed with Gerard to see him, so he knows that they’re going to the same spot they were at yesterday.

“I guess I do,” Frank mumbles. He’s not even really walking at this point, he’s mostly just being dragged. Honestly, Frank’s not sure who wants him and Gerard together more, Gerard, or the guys who Frank refuses to call friends.

“Slow down, I’m fucking disabled, you twat!” Frank yelps when he almost trips.

“Frank, we both know that you do not consider yourself disabled,” Brendon states.

“No, but I can’t see where we’re going anyhow. Slow down so I don’t break something.”

“Nope, we’re already here,” Brendon says, before he’s shoving Frank out into the cold. He didn’t even have time to put his jacket on and now he’s outside and it’s freezing.

“Can I help you with that?” someone asks, and Frank knows immediately who that voice belongs to. He’s already attracted to that voice as it is, he doesn’t need any more hints than that.

“It’s just a jacket, I think I can get it myself, thanks,” Frank says.

“No really, I got it,” Gerard says, and he grabs the jacket from Frank’s hand and then steps around him. Frank just sucks in a breath and doesn’t let it out as Gerard’s hands brush along his arms when he puts the coat around him. He almost forgets how exactly to put his arm in the sleeve, but he figures it out.

“How was your day?” Gerard asks, with his voice right next to Frank’s ear. Frank wants someone to shoot him in the face to stop himself from being so blisteringly infatuated with this guy.

“F-fine.”

“You still cold?” Gerard asks, pretending he doesn’t know precisely why Frank just stuttered.

“Uh, yeah, I guess.”

Gerard walks around him, and Frank hears footsteps crunching in snow, an oddly comfortable sound. Then Gerard’s facing him and Frank’s aware that it’s a ghost town back here. There’s no one else in this spot right now other than them. Even if there were people there, Frank doubts he’d be able to focus on them. He’s next to Gerard and that’s about all he knows right now. He’s next to Gerard and he wants so many different things all at once from this guy.

Gerard leans down a little until he’s in Frank’s personal space, and Frank’s whole brain just stops working completely all of a sudden.

Frank’s breathing halts as every single cell in his body just starts to scream ‘oh my god, this is it.’ Because Gerard is inches away, not even inches. Centimeters. He’s so close that Frank can literally feel his breath on his face. This is fucking it. His brain just keeps repeating those words over and over and over again in his head. He’s not sure if time is standing still or if Gerard is just stalling on the moment, but it feels like it’s been too long.

Frank could reach his hand out and Gerard’s face would be right there, right next to his, so close it’s not even possible to measure anymore.

Frank’s just waiting. And waiting. He’s waiting for this stupid annoying redhead to fucking kiss him already and he’s excited, but so beyond ready for it.

Then Gerard pulls away and Frank’s body seems to chuck itself off a canyon out of sheer disappointment. That was going to be it. He was so sure of it. That was supposed to be it. He was supposed to kiss Gerard and it was going to be the best first kiss anyone in the world has ever had, but it’s not even happening. Gerard is leaning back against the car and he’s just sort of staring at Frank, and Frank feels like someone just kicked him and stole his money. It’s not even computing.

Gerard didn’t kiss him. He was going to, but then he didn’t. Maybe Frank repulses him and he didn’t realize it until they were that close. Maybe Frank’s just really ugly, and Gerard couldn’t go through with kissing him. Every single possible reason that could possibly explain why Gerard didn’t kiss him floods through his head, and it’s like being hit with a train.

“Wh-why...?” Frank mumbles, and he can hear how broken and helpless he sounds. It’s disgusting, even to his own ears, to hear himself speak so he doesn’t finish his thought.

“Not the right time. You saw it coming,” Gerard says.

“I,” Frank starts but he doesn’t trust his own tongue.

Gerard comes up to him again, close, but not in the same way he had been a moment ago. A moment ago the air had been ripe with anticipation, and desperation and a whole bunch of other things that Frank doesn’t have the mind nor care to put labels to. He just knew it was going to happen. This is different, this is more like Gerard being Gerard and getting close just to see Frank’s legs go all wobbly.

“I am going to kiss you, Frank,” Gerard says, “Don’t you worry about that. Just not yet.”

“You’re just...” Frank tries to find the perfect word to describe how aggravating Gerard is right now, and most of the time actually, but he fails and he just huffs out dejectedly. “I hate you. Take me home, would you?”

“Home? You don’t want to spend more time with me?” Gerard asks, and that’s a tough question for Frank to answer. On the one hand, fuck yes, of course he wants to spend time with Gerard. He wants to spend all the time there is to spend with Gerard. He wants to spend the eighteen years of his life where he didn’t know Gerard, getting to know him. 

Then on the other hand though, Gerard is annoying him right now. He was so close to kissing Frank and then he just backed away and now Frank is just angry and upset, and somewhat longing for the stupid dork to stick his stupid tongue in Frank’s mouth. That’s all he’s asking for. He’s not asking for a million dollars or eternal youth. He just wants Gerard to kiss him, is that too much to ask?

“I really hate you, Gerard,” Frank says, “and while I would really love to hang out with you at your store, I have a life too. One that doesn’t need you in it every second of every day.”

“Well no, most of the day has already gone by and you’re only just now spending it with me, so obviously you don’t need me, but you want me here anyway.” 

Frank wants to say he’ll go to the comic store and give Gerard some company while he works, but really, he doesn’t want to seem clingy. He knows he isn’t, but he wants to seem kind of cool. At least, he doesn’t want to be that much of a loser. Frank is not at all a cool dude, but he doesn’t want to be so obsessed with Gerard that he doesn’t even have a life. 

So, Frank decides, he can spend tonight without Gerard. Leave him wanting more. That’s what he should do. Leave Gerard wanting more. If Gerard gets to leave Frank on his toes, he can do the same thing to Gerard.

"No, you can take me home," Frank repeats. 

Frank hears Gerard taking in a sharp breath. 

"Okay Frank. If that's what you want," Gerard mumbles sounding defeated. 

"That's what I want," Frank say and he knows he's not fully telling the truth. "We'd better get going so you can get back to work."

Gerard can basically hear his own heart breaking from being left alone without Frank all of a sudden. He'd planned comics to introduce to Frank and got a few snacks for them to share. It was very cliché esque, but Gerard wanted that with Frank. Still wants that.

Frank holds back a sigh as Gerard leads him to the car. Gerard opens the door and helps Frank into the car, then closes the door. Frank lets out the breath as Gerard walks around the car and then opens the door. Gerard gets in and instantly leans over for Frank's seat belt. He pulls it across Frank's chest and Frank inhales quickly, holding the breath in, and feeling his head spin with how close Gerard is. Gerard pecks Frank's cheek and Frank turns his head a little. Letting his face linger next to Gerard's. His lips millimeters apart from Gerard's. Gerard clicks the belt into place and pulls back. 

"We should get you home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment?


	22. Finally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s all Gerard’s fault.

Frank wants to punch something. He wants to punch a wall or a tree. He wants to punch Gerard in the face. He wants to punch anything that he can punch, basically.

He’s going crazy. Absolutely crazy.

Now, Frank knows Gerard well enough to know that it was his intent the whole time to keep him waiting on pins and needles, but it’s been too long. It’s been way too long. Over a week is too long. To be precise, it’s been nine days. So basically, it’s been about eight and a half days too many.

What Frank wants, what he really wants, is for Gerard to kiss him, but no, his luck just isn’t that good. It’s literally going to drive him crazy if this whole never been kissed thing doesn’t get rectified soon. He’s seriously regretting telling Gerard not to kiss him what feels like years ago. He wishes he could take it back, but he can’t, and that is killing him.

He wishes that he could just pluck up the courage to do it himself, but he’d run into more than a few problems if he were to attempt to kiss Gerard. The first being that Gerard is taller than him, and Frank can’t see. If he could, he’d grab that son of a bitch and be done with it, but he can’t, so he’s quite sure he’d probably end up slobbering all over his nose or something.

The second problem Frank faces is that he’s never kissed anyone before, and doesn’t know how to initiate it. He’s not in the know about being smooth, and he’s too nervous to be able to do that anyway. He may act like he owns the world sometimes, but Frank is still considerably shy, especially around Gerard for some unknown reason. 

It’s all Gerard’s fault, he assumes. It’s all Gerard’s fault that he gets butterflies in his stomach whenever he’s near Gerard. It’s all Gerard’s fault that he forgets to breathe when they’re touching. It’s all Gerard’s fault that he giggles like an anime character half the time that they’re together. It’s all Gerard’s fault. Everything’s his fault.

The biggest problem Frank faces is that he doesn’t even know how to kiss. He’s fairly sure that there’s a bunch of different types of kissing, and he doesn’t know which one is appropriate, or anything about anything. He’s hopeless. He can’t just watch a chick flick and take notes on kissing techniques, because he can’t actually see the screen! He doesn’t know where his nose is supposed to go, or his hands or even what to do with his mouth. He’s literally hopeless.

Frank’s decided that he’s going to have to handle this like Gerard is in charge, because, what the hell is he supposed to do? There’s no way for him to get this information that doesn’t entail embarrassing the crap out of himself in front of everyone he knows.

He knows that he could ask someone. He can’t ask his mom obviously, but he could, hypothetically, ask Mikey or Pete or someone, but he can’t at the same time. It’s a possibility, but he couldn’t muster up the will to actually ask anyone. It’s too embarrassing. Besides, if he asked Mikey, then Mikey would know that Frank intends to kiss his brother, and that’s something Frank would rather not have Mikey know. If he asks Pete then Pete will tell Mikey and the same results would follow. The only person he could ask and trust that they wouldn’t tell Mikey is Patrick, but Patrick doesn’t seem like a kissing aficionado and probably wouldn’t have any viable advice for Frank. 

So Frank is on his own, waiting, scowling, and snapping at everything that breathes.

Frank is aware that he’s being kind of rude to everyone lately, even Gerard to a certain extent, but there’s just no way for him to change that. He can’t get himself to behave rationally. All he knows is that Gerard hasn’t kissed him yet, and he wants it to happen like yesterday. 

So what if Frank is a little bit moody? He’s allowed to have his bad days. It hasn’t been a bad day though, more like a bad week.

“What’s gotten into you?” Brendon asks at lunch after Frank snaps at a remark directed towards him.

“Nothing. It’s not important.”

“Okay, so you just denied that anything was wrong and then you contradicted yourself. So what actually is wrong?”

“Why should I tell you?” Frank asks.

“Because until you do, I’m going to hold your cookie hostage,” Brendon says, and he grabs something off of Frank’s lunch tray. He just shrugs and puts his arm on the table, under his head.

“Keep it,” Frank says, “what do I care?”

“You’re grumpy,” Pete states.

“I’m not!” Frank insists. “It’s just... ugh, it doesn’t concern you, so keep your nose out of it.”

“Does this have anything to do with Gerard?” Mikey asks.

“Jeez! Gerard, Gerard, Gerard. Is that all you guys ever talk about?”

“That’s the first time we brought him up.”

“Well it seems like you’re just always on my back about him. We’re just, I don’t know, I don’t like him.”

“No not at _all_ ,” Patrick whispers sarcastically. Frank kicks him under the table.

Mikey starts, “Whatever it is, if you just talk to him about it-”

“No! It’s not about Gerard. There’s nothing wrong. I’m fine.”

“People usually insist that they’re fine when they absolutely and completely are not fine,” Brendon says.

“You can give it up, okay? There’s no amount of asking that will get me to spill on my personal life. It’s personal for a reason, and I have absolutely no obligation to tell you shit about myself.”

“Fine, whatever,” Mikey says, “I can always ask Gerard.”

“Why would you ask him how I feel?”

“Because he probably knows.”

“Don’t tell him anything!” Frank says, and then tries to come up with a viable excuse for why he doesn’t want Gerard to know anything. He’s coming up short. Gerard’s probably noticed his behavior anyway, but he would really prefer Mikey didn’t go on and tattle on Frank.

“So you admit this has something to do with Gerard?” Mikey asks.

“I admit no such thing!” Frank says, “I just don’t want the people who consider themselves my friends to go bitching about me to their siblings.”

“Yes, but you’ve said it yourself, we aren’t your friends,” Brendon points out.

“Just, ugh, just don’t tell Gerard anything, okay? If it is about Gerard, and I’m not saying it is, nor am I even acknowledging that ‘it’ is real, then it should stay between us.”

“Yeah, but your bad attitude is affecting us too!”

“Boohoo, I don’t give a fuck.”

That’s how Frank acts for the remainder of the day. That’s how he acts into the beginning of the next day, and all throughout the last half of school. He’ll mope and act out towards just about everyone. It almost lands him in hot water with a teacher who hasn’t taken a liking to him. Not many of them have, after all his whole condition makes all their lives harder, but the teachers here don’t even try to pretend. Really, who are they to complain about having to specially prepare his homework, when Frank has to fucking deal with this every goddamn day of his life? Oh no, you had to spend extra time getting Frank’s homework ready for him? That’s a real shame. Such a travesty. It totally and completely out trumps Frank’s whole blindness thing.

Frank’s entire mannerism has been morphed into that of an extreme asshole compared to his usual moderate asshole behavior. It’s all Gerard’s fault though. All Frank’s asking for is for Gerard to kiss him, but no, he just has to surprise Frank. He has to catch him off guard or whatever. If this keeps up, someone will end up murdering Frank by the end of the month. He’s just that annoying. 

So by the time Friday afternoon comes around, celebrating almost a month of knowing Gerard, he’s still a kiss virgin.

Frank has pretty much memorized the halls of the school by now. He still hasn’t quite mastered the stairs to the upper level, and he’d really prefer never having to go up there at all, but he’s gotten the hang of everything else.

He’s also gotten even more on the bad side of Blake, which is probably not a good thing. He’s really not trying anymore, it’s just basic instinct to be snarky towards him, and the snarkier he gets, the more Blake seems ready to throw Frank off a bridge. Gym is the worst of it though. That’s one of the only classes Frank has all by himself, and it’s always at the end of the day so that all the anger Blake feels towards him has built up. He’s gotten used to being slammed into lockers before and after gym, but he’s also made a habit of hiding out in the stalls at the back of the locker room so that he doesn’t find himself in a worse position. Frank can handle pushing and shoving, what he can’t handle is Blake trying to take advantage of his lack of clothes in the locker room.

Frank’s also started to bring his backpack to the locker room with him, so that he doesn’t have to make a stop at his locker after his last period. He can just head straight for the side parking lot where Gerard has proven that he will always be there waiting. He’s never even been late. Frank sometimes makes him wait extended lengths of time, though, just to see if Gerard has any reaction to that, but so far, he hasn’t. He’s just too nice. 

Today is one of those good days where Gerard doesn’t have to work, and that excites Frank more than he’d care to admit. It’s not like he doesn’t enjoy hanging out with Gerard for a few hours at the comic book store, but he also really likes to have Gerard to himself, in a manner of speaking. He likes it when Gerard doesn’t have any responsibilities to attend to, and can be one hundred percent there with Frank.

Despite his crabbiness and irritation with Gerard, he still looks forward to seeing him. He can’t help it. There’s just something so fulfilling about being near Gerard that he doesn’t quite know how to place. 

Frank pushes open the external door, letting the freezing cold air hit his face, mercifully welcoming in the weekend where he’ll get to hopefully spend way too much time with Gerard.

Even though Gerard is the focus of his grouchiness, Frank still smiles when he hears Gerard call to him from the parking space where he always waits. Frank’s earlier today, because of his need to get out of the school for his two days off. Also, he really wants to hang out with Gerard.

Frank takes his usual calculated steps to get over to the car. He knows how to get there without the help of Gerard, because sometimes when Frank took a little too long Gerard would wait in his car, causing Frank to try and find his way over before Gerard would come rushing to help him. One day after school Gerard practiced a bit with him so he could get to the car himself when he wasn't in the mood for Gerard's assistance, like on that day. Gerard, of course, rushes over to Frank and wraps his arm around his waist as usual.

"How was your day?" Gerard asks and Frank just grunts something, because, really, he's just done with everything.

Gerard's arm does feel nice around him though, and he doesn't admonish himself when he moves in closer to Gerard. They get over to the car and Gerard takes his arm from around Frank to open the door. Gerard takes Frank's bag and helps him into the car. Gerard smiles down at Frank and nods to himself when Frank is seated comfortably inside, and done collapsing his cane. Gerard straightens up, closes the door, and goes around to his side of the car. When Gerard gets in the car, he closes the door and throws Frank's bag in the back.

"I left the heat running for you today. I know how quickly you get cold," the smile is evident in Gerard's voice, and it almost makes Frank want to smile... almost.

"Thanks," Frank answers shortly, but he really appreciates it, and he hopes Gerard knows it. Frank's reassured that Gerard knows it when he just chuckles and doesn't push on the matter.

"Are you going to give me a real answer on how school was for you today?"

Frank sighs because he knows Gerard isn't going to let this go. This is an everyday thing between the two and Frank doesn't even know why Gerard continues to ask. It's like he's expecting everyone to magically like Frank and for Frank to magically be able to see again. Frank knows Gerard is just curious about everything that goes on with him, so he always gives him an answer. Today would be no different although he wishes one thing was different.

"I went to school as always. I went to my classes as always. I annoyed people as always. My teachers were annoyed by me as always. My friends but not friends pestered me as always, and I snapped at them... as always," Frank's tone is getting angrier by the second. "I was shoved against a few lockers as always, but not during gym for once. I actually decided to hide out this time, because I'm not in a good mood, if you couldn't tell. So today would've definitely been the day that Blake bashed my face in had I had a run in with him. Now I'm sitting in the car with you waiting for you to take me home. Overall, school for me was the same as always." Frank lets out a sigh after he's done speaking.

"Okay, I'll get you home."

Gerard knows Frank is frustrated and it bums him out. He also knows that he's a part of the reason why Frank is stressing out. Ever since the day he didn't kiss him, things shifted in the air around them. Frank still hangs out with him and they still have a good time, but it’s moments like these when it’s too quiet that Frank becomes lost in his own thoughts and grumpy. Gerard is only doing what Frank asked of him though. Gerard knows Frank wants to kiss him and it's not like Gerard doesn't want to kiss Frank. Honestly he wanted to kiss him ages ago, but he just doesn't know how.

Right now Frank's scowling and almost slouching in his seat and Gerard can see that he really just wants to go home. The pout on his lips makes Gerard smile and chuckle. He shakes his head and leans over to buckle Frank up like he always does. It's all so slow in both of their minds, but fast at the same time. Gerard purposely lingers in Frank's face once he has the belt in his hand. He pulls it over Frank's chest and snaps it into place.

Frank isn't moving or even breathing. This is always how it happens. Gerard has been doing this since the first time Frank got into his car. It's always the slow anticipation of what's not going to happen. Gerard always takes his sweet time tormenting Frank with a damn seat belt. Gerard always touches him lightly and breathes in his face. Frank's always left not knowing how to breathe until Gerard backs away and starts doing whatever he does before he's driving him to wherever they're going.

This time Gerard's there for too long and Frank almost asks him why, but stops abruptly when he feels Gerard's finger on his chin. Frank then feels Gerard's other hand on his face, and he all but dies right there when Gerard presses his lips against Frank's. For a moment, Frank is sure there isn't darkness behind his closed eyes. He feels like he can see things he hasn't seen in forever. He can't breathe, he can't do anything, but let Gerard kiss him. It's unlike anything he's ever felt.

Frank's heart is pounding and it's so loud, yet he can barely hear it. All he knows is he can feel Gerard's lips on his. He can smell the cherry on both of their lips. Everything has stopped but their beating hearts, and for once Frank will admit that his heart is fucking beating for Gerard, and he knows Gerard's is beating for him. It's just a touch of the lips, nothing too pushy, but it's enough to let Frank know he wants more.

Gerard feels it the moment his lips touch Frank's. He feels the way Frank seizes up at first and then he feels the way Frank melts under his touch. It’s as if Gerard literally has to hold him up. Gerard can't feel, can't think about anything other than Frank's mouth. His soft and perfect lips. Gerard wants to take it further than just a peck and he will once he's sure Frank can handle it. Right now he knows Frank is testing the waters because he's never done this before and he's fine with that.

Instead Gerard focuses on the way it seems neither of them are really breathing. The only thing indicating that they're still alive is their hearts drumming together, really. Gerard has never felt anything like this with anyone else in his life. It's not like when he had his first kiss. That was actually a disaster.

The guy was too in a rush to even really care if Gerard had ever kissed anyone before or not. This is different and Frank is who Gerard wishes was his first kiss. Frank's face feels soft under his palm, and it's all almost too much but not enough. Gerard turns his head to the side and softly guides Frank's face to the other side. Frank follows the direction willingly, and that's when the kiss deepens a little.

Their mouths are opening and closing against each other, but there's no tongue, and it's fine like that for now. Frank pants into Gerard's mouth and Gerard does this little thing between a moan and a 'mmm' sound but he's sure Frank understands it. Gerard's sure Frank understands it because now his hand is on the back of Gerard's head and he's pushing and pulling into the kiss. Frank feels Gerard's tongue against his bottom lip and Gerard moves it slowly back and forth. It's as if Gerard is asking permission for something Frank's sure he's heard of before, so he grants him that permission.

"Yes..." Frank pants into Gerard's mouth and that's all he's able to say because Gerard pushes his tongue into Frank’s mouth.

At first Frank thinks it feel odds and he doesn't even know where to put his tongue or what to do with it. Gerard pulls back and looks at Frank, wishing he could see his eyes staring back at him. Then Gerard does something crazy that Frank is clearly not expecting. Gerard takes Frank's sunglasses off and Frank turns away from him. Gerard turns his face back to him and kisses him softly on the lips.

"It's okay," Gerard whispers and Frank shakes his head no. "Yeah... it's okay, Frankie."

Frank takes a deep breath and exhales and then looks up at Gerard. Or where Gerard would be if he could see him. Gerard smiles and chuckles at Frank.

"What?" Frank asks uncertainly.

"My boyfriend has the coolest eyes," Gerard says and he's hoping he didn't ruin things.

Frank inhales sharply and his eyes go wide. Before he can say anything, Gerard pulls him back into a quick kiss. "Just let me do all the work."

Frank just nods again and let's Gerard take over. He feels Gerard's tongue snake back into his mouth. Gerard's trying to make Frank forget what he just said and focus back on their kiss. He's glad Frank didn't stop him and make a big deal out of it, because honestly that would've ruined everything. Gerard moves his tongue inside of Frank's mouth, just tasting him, and thanking God that Frank hadn't eaten school lunch.

Frank tastes like gum and cherry from the chap stick he'd licked off of Frank's lips. Frank's head is spinning now and he's got into a rhythm that he and Gerard can both enjoy. Frank moans into Gerard's mouth and Gerard moans back. That's proof enough that he's doing something right. Gerard wishes he'd picked somewhere that he can lay Frank down or something more comfortable so that he can feel Frank the way he wants to.

Gerard wants to mold their bodies together and make Frank feel so much more than he's already clearly feeling. Frank moves his hands into Gerard’s red hair and opens his mouth for him more. Frank's so hot all over and he wants nothing more than to be back in his room with Gerard doing this, but then there's the scary thought that he'd want so much more, although he's not ready for that. Frank can't help how his body reacts to Gerard though. So it's probably best that they're in Gerard's car and not back on his bed.

Gerard wants to pull Frank into his lap but he's not going to. He's not going to keep them here all day in his car though either. No matter how badly he really wants to, he knows they can't stay here forever. Gerard pulls back reluctantly and puts his forehead against Frank's. Frank's holding Gerard by the back of his neck now and his other hand is on Gerard's shoulder. Gerard's gripping Frank's waist so tight he's sure he'll probably be able to feel Gerard's hands there for the rest of the day.

"You sure you've never done that before?" Gerard asks with a chuckle.

Frank smiles and nods. "I'm sure." Frank sighs and pulls back from Gerard.

For a moment Frank just stares into his lap until he realizes he's not wearing his glasses anymore. He doesn't see the darkness they provide and he feels exposed for some reason. It's not like Gerard hasn't already seen his eyes back in his room and it's not like he didn't just see them a few moments ago, but he still feels odd. Frank feels like he's less than beautiful without his glasses to hide the ugly truth.

Gerard can literally sense and feel what Frank's thinking and it pains his heart. Gerard reaches for Frank's face and smiles at him once he's got his attention. 

"You're beautiful. You're breath taking. If you don't believe me just pay close attention to how I breathe when I'm around you." They both chuckle and then Gerard continues. "I'll never think anything less of you because of your eyes. I told you, I think they're awesome. I think you're pretty awesome too."

"Yeah, well," Frank laughs breathily and Gerard just has a huge smile plastered on his face. It looks like he's auditioning to be the next Joker in a Batman movie and it's all because of Frank. Frank's aware of Gerard's hand still on his face and he doesn't say anything about it.

Frank thinks about what Gerard said and decides now would be a good time to address it. "You called me your boyfriend."

Frank's looking up at Gerard and he's wishing he could just fucking see him. He wants to see more than a blob of red. Frank wants to look into Gerard's eyes with his normal eyes. He wants to see the way Gerard looks at him. He loves the way it feels so he can only imagine how he'd feel looking at all the emotion Gerard has toward him. Frank won't call it love, because it's too soon, but there's something there, and it's _so_ powerful.

"I did. Is that a problem?" Gerard asks and he's praying internally that Frank won't push him back after they've gone so far forward.

"That's fine."

"Really!?" Gerard says a little too loudly, and Frank laughs.

"Yes, really."

"Wow... okay then. You're my boyfriend."

"Don't make me regret it," Frank smiles up at Gerard and Gerard laughs.

"I won't," Gerard kisses Frank one last time before he pulls back and grabs Frank's glasses.

Gerard puts Frank's glasses back on and pushes Frank's hair behind his ear. Gerard stares at him for a moment and smiles again. Frank can feel him smiling, he practically hears his mouth move into the smile and Frank would rather not think about how he's able to hear it. Frank just returns the smile. Gerard lets out a breath and finally sits into his chair properly. He buckles his belt and turns on the radio. Gerard looks over at Frank and Frank gets this look on his face and then he's smiling way more than he should be. 

Gerard thinks Frank's gone mad when he starts laughing, and he's about to ask him if he's okay when Frank shouts, "FINALLY!" Frank giggles, and Gerard just has to join in with him as he pulls out of the parking lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that was worth waiting for.


	23. Shut Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Make me.

Frank never thought this was the way things with Gerard were going to turn out. Frank never thought he'd be his boyfriend and he never thought he'd be laying in his room on his bed next to him. Frank never thought he wouldn't want to fight Gerard off. Frank never thought he wouldn't want to let go. 

Gerard runs his fingers through Frank's hair lightly and looks down at Frank already looking up at him. His eyes are bright from the sunlight and it makes them look even more badass than before. Gerard leans forward and pecks Frank on the lips. 

Frank grins and ducks his head into Gerard's neck. He's so bashful with him all of a sudden. It's as if putting a label to them made everything more real. It's basically Frank admitting that he has feelings for Gerard. This is a huge thing for Frank to take in. 

Gerard moves his hand to the bottom of Frank's back and sways it back and forth soothingly. Frank sighs into Gerard's neck and sends shivers coursing through Gerard. Frank notices but only smiles to himself instead of teasing Gerard about it. Frank wouldn't want anyone to tease him. 

"So can I brag about you being my boyfriend?" Gerard asks.

"You most certainly cannot. Just let people think whatever they want to think."

"What happens if I kiss you in front of them? What would you do?"

"Fight to keep my knees from collapsing while I kiss you back."

“I think that would kind of give it away,” Gerard says.

“Just don’t carry a big sign and a bullhorn, okay?” Frank asks.

“Okay, but can I proposition this-”

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me talk,” Gerard says, laughing. He falls to his side, still looking down at Frank, who’s looking up like he’s focused on the ceiling rather than him.

“Alright fine. Go ahead.”

“Thank you. Can I brag that you’re my boyfriend to people who aren’t Mikey or your friends?”

Frank bites his lip for a second, stopping himself from correcting Gerard’s use of the word ‘friends.’ He’s still not so sure he’s ready to take that on yet. That’s a huge thing for him. If letting Gerard call him his boyfriend isn’t already big enough, than calling the people he sits with at lunch certainly is. One step at a time will just have to work for right now. 

Frank decides not to correct Gerard however, when he says, “Well what good would it do if they don’t even know me? They don’t even know about my charming personality and fantastic ass.”

“Yes, but I can enthuse to them that you are the cutest person I’ve ever met.”

“I’m not a trophy,” Frank says.

“No, but I’m allowed to be happy that you like me, aren’t I? I feel like that’s the point. God, though, if some of my older friends knew I was dating a guy from high school, they probably wouldn’t believe it.”

“Why?” Frank asks, “What’s so wrong with me being in high school?”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean that high school was a really awful experience for me. It was just complete and total hell. I basically swore I’d never have anything to do with it again, including people. I tried to get rid of Mikey but he’s hard to suffocate in his sleep like I’d wanted to. He’s very restless. Almost kicked my tooth out,” Gerard says, and Frank whacks him in the arm, making Gerard laugh again. “Okay, so maybe I’m joking on the murdering Mikey front, but my point is that, never in a million years did I ever think I would willingly go back to that school, even to the parking lot. I’ll take inconvenient routes so that I don’t even have to drive by it, but I’d go back every day for the rest of my life just to see you.”

“Okay, let’s hope I’m not in high school for that long.”

“You know that’s not my point,” Gerard replies.

Frank shrugs, and turns his head to Gerard, “I guess you can brag about me, but under one condition.”

“And what’s that?” 

“Would you maybe skip over the part where I’m blind?”

Gerard nods, but then remembers that Frank can’t see it. He puts his head against Frank’s shoulder and nods again before kissing Frank under his jaw.

“Oh!” Frank says, “And also mention that I have a great ass.”

Gerard snorts, and lifts his head up to look down at Frank, who looks proud of himself.

“Seriously?” Gerard asks, “That’s what you want people to know about you?”

“Absolutely.”

Frank hears the sound of the front door opening a moment later, and he has a few thoughts all at once. The first one is that he really wants Gerard to kiss his jaw again. The second is that it’s not even weird at this point for Gerard to be here before his mom gets home. She’s actually been getting home later because Gerard always seems to be with Frank nowadays. His third thought is that he already knows what Gerard is about to say.

“Can I tell her?” Gerard asks, totally proving a point in Frank’s head.

“No!”

“Aw, Frank. That was really more of a formality than a question. You do realize she knows already, right?”

“She what?” Frank asks, “You told her?”

“I didn’t tell your mom anything. She just knows you better than _you_ know you.”

“You’re not telling her though.”

“Oh she’ll figure it out,” Gerard says nonchalantly.

"Well as long as you don't tell her. I can practically feel the way she beams when I'm with you. It's like she's falling in love with the thought of my happiness."

"Of course she is, Frankie. You're her son. She wants you to be happy."

"I know. I want her to be happy too. I wish I could give her more than a blind kid to look after," Frank sighs and closes his eyes. 

Gerard caresses Frank's jawline. "Don't say that Frankie. Your mother loves you. She doesn't mind making sure you're well taken care of."

"How do you know?"

"The same way she's going to know about us. Intuition," Gerard leans down and kisses Frank's nose. 

"Are you here, Frankie?" Frank's mother shouts from the hallway. 

"Yes mom!" Frank replies and smiles when he hears his mother turning on the bath water. 

"Long day. I just want to soak. Is Gerard here too?"

"Yes, Ms. I." 

"Hi Gerard! Take care of my boy for me while I get some me time."

"I surely will," Gerard yells out and then Frank hears the bathroom door closing. 

"See? She could never have that when I'm here by myself unless I'm sleeping, and by then she's too tired. She's always on edge that something's going to happen to me. She trusts you a lot."

"I'm glad she does. Do _you_ trust me?" Gerard asks quietly. 

"It's too soon to tell," Frank says. 

"I think you do to a certain extent."

"How so?" Frank asks. 

"I think you trust that I won't let anything happen to you, but you don't trust that I won't hurt you."

"I don't trust anyone."

"So I'm just anyone?" Gerard asks with a raised brow. He's looking down at Frank and Frank's looking out into the distance. 

"No. I didn't say that. I just mean... look, you mean something. I just don't know what yet. But I don't fully trust you either."

“Do you think you ever will trust me?” Gerard asks.

“Like I said, it’s too soon to tell.”

“That’s not the answer to my question. I’m asking for a guess here, not a certainty.”

“Ugh, I mean, I guess it’s possible,” Frank replies, “but don’t quote me on that.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Gerard replies. 

“How long do you think it’s going to take her to figure it out?”

“With that expression on your face? Maybe a second.”

“What?” Frank asks, “What expression do I have?”

Gerard grins at him, “it’s cute. You look cute. I like it.”

“What do I look like? Gerard, it’s really mean to not tell the blind guy what he looks like, okay? I will smack you. Don’t you dare think I’m above that.”

“You just look really happy. I mean to say that the last few weeks you haven’t looked very happy, and that’s my fault, but you look really happy right now.”

“That’s your fault as well,” Frank says.

“Saying that I make you happy is not an insult, Frankie.”

“Maybe I wasn’t trying to insult you,” Frank responds.

Gerard grins widely, “You were complimenting me?”

“Don’t act so surprised. I have more settings than just to wildly throw out disses at people.”

“Well yeah. Sometimes you’re sarcastic.” 

“Shut up,” Frank says.

“Make me.”

Frank thinks for a moment, because there’s literally no way on this planet for anyone to ever say those two words together without it being extremely sexual, and this situation is no different. It really isn’t. Frank knows Gerard’s intent was probably along those very lines, but he’s not kidding anyone.

Frank takes one of his hands and lifts it up to feel for the side of Gerard’s head, hoping not to poke him in the eye. Once he establishes where Gerard is, it’s easy to figure out where he’s meant to aim when he leans over to kiss him. Frank is aware that literally everyone he knows can find a foreign object without any cause for struggle at all, but he’s still kind of proud of himself when he doesn’t accidentally kiss Gerard’s nose or something. 

So far this new town has surprised Frank way more times than he could possibly count. For one thing, he was adamant not to make any friends or to hang out with people regularly other than to use them for transportation reasons. He also told himself that he wouldn’t socialize with anyone from this town outside of school hours, and that was one of his strictest guidelines that he made for himself. He absolutely was not supposed to kiss anyone at all whatsoever. That was so far out of the realm of possibility though, that Frank hadn’t even bothered to list it as one of his rules for the new town.

Frank has thus broken every single one of his rules. He hangs out with people from his school for reasons other than transportation. He actually engages in conversations at the lunch table. He socializes with people outside of school hours, most especially Gerard, but he’s hung out with Mikey and the others at the mall a couple of times too. They usually ditched him to get him and Gerard alone. He has definitely broken the rule that he didn’t even bother making, because he’s kissed Gerard already at least a dozen times. He really can’t help it. He could if he really wanted to but the problem is that Frank neither wants to, nor really wants to. In fact, he really _does_ want to kiss Gerard. This has all completely undermined the guidelines he made for himself, and the biggest problem with that is that Frank doesn’t fucking care. 

He just doesn’t. He doesn’t care in the least that he’s broken his rules. He tells himself that he should care, and he tells himself that he really should be ashamed, but he isn’t. He’s too busy being happy. Like, actually happy. Not the happy you get when you watch a funny movie or someone makes a particularly impressive pun. He’s happy like he’s enjoying life. Frank hasn’t enjoyed life since he used to stare out the window and watch cars drive down the street. He hasn’t been happy since he used to know what color those cars were. He hasn’t been happy since he could watch the TV and identify characters by their face rather than their voice. 

He is happy though, and that’s something he’s trying not to get too caught up on. He knows that if he thinks about it too much he might ruin it, and he’s too busy basking in the fact that his smile is real to even so much as consider ruining it. Right now, and for as long as he can, he’s just got to keep that up without questioning things.

Gerard’s making him happy. Mikey’s making him happy. Patrick, Brendon, and even Pete with his fucking pizza addiction is making him happy.

“No number of times I tell you that you have a beautiful smile will ever be enough to get across to you how fucking perfect it is,” Gerard says.

“You’re a dork and I hate you,” Frank replies.

“I love your terms of endearment,” Gerard says, “I never thought I’d get shivers when someone called me comic boy, but here you are.” 

“Well comic boy, I hope you have plans for tonight because there is no way in hell we’re just going to sit here for the rest of the day while I make a list of the reasons why you’re such a dork. Reason one, you know more about the X-Men than you do about the moon landing.”

“I don’t see why it’s important that I be able to name all the people who went to the moon when I can just as easily spend my time learning the names of X-Men,” Gerard says. “And I did have an idea, thank you for asking.”

“And what’s this idea? I’m going to have to sign off on it,” Frank replies.

“Oh I think you’ll like this idea.”

“What is it? You’ve got me waiting on pins and needles here.”

"I was thinking of taking you out. Maybe we can consider this our first date."

"Slow down there pretty boy..."

"How would you know I'm pretty?" Gerard asks.

"I can feel it. Anyway, where do you want to take me?"

"I want to take you to listen to some live music. A show if you will. Would you like that?"

Frank's smile can't possibly get any bigger at the idea. Music is the one thing in Frank's life that he's always loved. He still loves it to this day and he wishes he could play it. 

"I would love that actually."

Gerard smiles back at Frank and sighs. He's so happy he can make Frank feel the way he does. 

“I’d love to say I told you so, but I’m afraid that you’ll groan at me.”

Frank groans, “Too late.”

“Whoops.”

“Well, I can’t very well go out with you when I’m dressed like this, now can I?” Frank says gesturing to his clothes, which he can’t even see for himself.

“You look great! What’re you talking about?”

“Great? I want to look hot, Gerard. I want to look hot enough that people stop and stare at me to the point that it makes you the slightest bit jealous so you never move your arm from around me.”

“That’s a specific look,” Gerard notes.

“Yes,” Frank replies, sitting up. “But I can’t see, so you’re going to half to manufacture an outfit for me.”

“Oh so you just expect me to do that for you? You want me to be jealous, and you want me to be the one who picks the clothes out to make me that way? Frank, you’re pushing things a little.”

“Except we both know you’ll do it.”

Gerard rolls his eyes at Frank and sighs, sitting up to look at Frank beside him. Frank’s not wrong. He would literally do anything the guy asked of him, but he doesn’t know at what point Frank figured out that he’s got Gerard wrapped around his finger.

“You know me too well,” Gerard states, standing up and walking over to Frank’s dresser and starting to look through the drawers. He’s not sure exactly what he’s looking for, but he’s got somewhat of an idea about what Frank wants.

The time it takes him to find something for Frank to wear isn't long at all. The time it takes Frank to wash doesn't take long either. Just a few splashes of water here and there after Franks’ mother gets out of the bathroom. Gerard tries but fails miserably and epically at convincing Frank to let him help in the bathroom. There is no way Gerard will be getting a sneak peak off of him. 

Frank's sitting on his bed in his jeans when Gerard enters his room. Frank's head and eyes instantly snap in Gerard's direction and that does something to Gerard. The fact that he’s completely quiet and Frank still knows he’s there is a bit of a weird turn on for him. It's like the way people get hot because of how someone looks at them. Well Gerard loves the fact that Frank's so in tune with his hearing that he just knows, which is a good thing since they're going to hear music. 

Gerard walks closer to Frank and is down on his knees before him in seconds. It's so obvious that Frank finds this position awkward by the way he moves back just a little. It's not like Gerard hasn't done it before, it's just this time is totally unexpected, and not to mention, Frank being shirtless. Gerard can't deal with Frank being shirtless. 

Gerard leans forward and takes Frank's shoe laces and starts tying them up. Gerard hears Frank breathe a sigh of relief and smiles. Frank's so cute when he's like this. Gerard's eyes roam up and land on Frank's uncovered torso. It's not like Gerard hasn't seen boys without their shirts before, it's just that this is _Frank_ without his shirt. 

So forgive Gerard if his breathing has shifted a little, and it has. Don't fault him for thinking that Frank's skin looks smooth and he wants to touch him. It's not Gerard's fault that everything about Frank is breathtaking. It's certainly not his fault when his eyes roam up a little further to see Frank looking down in his direction. It's all Frank's fault that he stops breathing right then and there. 

If Frank could see, he'd see Gerard's sharp intake of breath. Frank would see Gerard messing up his shoe lace. In fact, Gerard's pretty certain he just made a balloon animal out of his laces. That's not even possible of course, until you see a shirtless Frank. Shirtless Frank makes anything possible... like death. 

Gerard's wrestling with the string now and he's glad for once that Frank can't see. Gerard looks like an idiot stretching and pulling the string to untangle it. Gerard pulls rather hard and Frank jumps. 

"I usually don't wear them that tight you know?"

"S-sorry. I'm sorry," Gerard rushes out his apologies. 

"Are you okay?" Frank asks, uncertainly. 

"Y-yeah. Why do you ask?" Gerard tries but fails miserably at hiding the shake in his voice. 

"Well, for one, you're trying to amputate my foot. I thought we were closer than that," Frank chuckles at his own joke. 

"Frankie..."

"Let me finish," Frank hears Gerard sigh and takes that as the go ahead to continue talking. "Your voice is shaky and breathy. You're stuttering like it's a part of you. So what's up?"

Gerard remains quiet as he keeps working on the shoe lace. He gets it untangled and ties it perfectly this time. "It's nothing. I was just thinking."

"You want me to trust you, yet here you are lying to me already."

"Hey! I'm not lying. I really was thinking."

"About what then?"

"This is the one time I'm going to keep my thoughts to myself. Thank you." 

Gerard ties Frank's other lace and stands up.

"Come on, comic boy. What is it?" Frank's now looking where he thinks Gerard's eyes are. He can just barely see the red because it's fairly dark in the room now. Frank can still see it though, and he doesn't have the tint of his glasses right now. 

That's another thing Frank never thought would happen. Frank doesn't mind his eyes, but he knows it makes people uncomfortable, therefore making him self-conscious about them. Here he is though sitting in front of Gerard without his guard up and willingly so. It's refreshing to be able to take those things off more than just at bedtime when Gerard's around. It makes Frank happy that there's someone besides his mom that doesn't find his eyes scary or creepy.

"You're just... shirtless," Gerard admits. 

Frank raises a brow at Gerard and then smirks, "Oh." Frank chuckles and turns to locate his shirt. "Sorry about that."

"Please don't be," Gerard says as his eyes trail over Frank's body one last time before Frank's pulling his shirt over his head. Just like that Frank's bare chest is gone and Gerard can sort of breathe again. 

Frank stands up and walks over to his dresser. He looks in the mirror as if he can see and starts fluffing his hair. Gerard's watching him through the mirror and laughs when Frank does a pout. 

"You're a hoot you know that?"

"You're the first to tell me that," Frank laughs and removes his hands from his hair. "I just remember seeing girls do that in movies before a hot date."

"So you do consider this a date and me to be hot?"

Frank calculates his movements as he moves his hand across his dresser. Gerard's watching and he smiles when Frank grabs his chap stick. The boy is really good at locating stuff and getting around. For a moment Gerard doesn't understand Frank's mother's concern. Then it dawns on him that it's her son so she's always going to be concerned. 

Frank takes the cap off his chap stick and runs it across his bottom lip first. "Well I guess we can call it a date since you're my boyfriend now." Frank stops talking to apply chap stick to his top lip. "And..." Frank hesitates, "I feel hot when I'm around you so you must be hot right?" Frank puts the cap back on his chap stick and puts it back in its proper place. 

"Really now?" Gerard asks with interest. 

Frank turns around and leans against his dresser, "Don't tell me you don't feel hot when you're with me." Frank smiles at Gerard, making him laugh. 

Gerard walks over to Frank and puts his arms around Frank's waist. "You are the guy whose shoelaces I just tangled because I got lost staring, right?"

Frank laughs and nods, "I think so." Frank wraps his arms around Gerard's neck and lifts up on his toes a bit. "Meet me halfway and tell me if I kiss like that guy."

"Yeah?" Gerard moves forward as Frank leans up. 

"Yeah," Frank nods and then his lips are connecting with Gerard's. 

Frank isn't sure how long he's been wrapped tightly in Gerard's arms, against the dresser, but he knows he doesn't mind. Gerard's kissing him so sweetly but passionately. His hands are gripping Frank's sides so tightly and Frank's hands are in Gerard's hair. If that's not enough, Frank is now sitting on his dresser thanks to Gerard picking him up and placing him there. 

Gerard's so far gone he almost forgets about them going out. Reluctantly, he pulls away and stares at Frank's lips. Gerard can't help but to lean forward and kiss Frank again. He nips at Frank's bottom lip and tugs on it lightly. Frank lets out a shuddery moan. Gerard smirks and pulls away again. He runs his hands back and forth across Frank's thighs. 

"We should get going, Frankie."

“Yeah, we should.”

“No need to sound so sad all of a sudden,” Gerard replies.

“I’m not sad!” Frank insists, hopping off the dresser. 

“No, of course not,” Gerard says, “I kind of want to stay here a little while longer too, Frankie. If we do, then we’ll end up never leaving though.”

“You’re right,” Frank sighs, “how do I look?”

Gerard’s about to say that Frank looks cute, but he knows that’s not the word that Frank wants from him. Gerard’s not usually the kind of person who describes people with the word ‘hot’ though, so he has to think for a moment before he responds.

“Sexy.”

“Great,” Frank says, “I’d return the compliment, but it wouldn’t mean much coming from me.”

Gerard smiles, and places his arm back around Frank’s waist where he likes it. Frank’s decidedly not a fan of having people put their arm around his shoulder, something about it being uncomfortable, but he really likes an arm around his middle. He’s always in favor of that. 

The two of them walk out of Frank’s room, and Frank hears the sound of the TV in the living room. He has a flash of a thought that he should push Gerard off of him, but he knows he’s not fooling anybody. His mother really is smarter than that. She will know. Just like she always knows what’s going on in Frank’s head.

“Hello boys. Are you going out?”

“Yes we are,” Gerard responds. “I’m taking Frankie to go hear some live music.”

“Oh, I bet he’ll like that.”

“Can we stop acting like I’m not even in the room?” Frank asks.

“Do you know when you’ll be back?” Frank’s mother asks, disregarding Frank’s question.

“I imagine we might be kind of late. I promise he’ll get home tonight, but I don’t know when.”

“Alright, just bring him back in one piece.”

“Well I guess that sort of ruins Gerard’s plans to rip my arm off,” Frank shrugs.

“Very funny, Frank,” Gerard says, pulling him towards the door.

“Bye mom,” Frank says, before he’s rushed out the door. 

“She totally knows,” Gerard notes. Frank can’t deny that she probably does. His face is very bad at hiding these sorts of things. Frank’s face is extremely transparent.

“She does, doesn’t she? Ugh, my mom knows I have a boyfriend,” Frank frowns.

“Yeah, but I’ve met your boyfriend, he’s nice.”

Frank smirks, “he’s a total dork.”

“I don’t see that as an insult, I’ll have you know. I love being a dork. You’re a dork too, you know,” Gerard replies.

“But which one of us works in a comic book store?”

Gerard opens Frank’s door for him, and lets Frank sit down, before he closes it and runs around to his side of the car.

“You make a valid point, Frank,” Gerard says when he takes his seat. 

Frank smiles to himself and says, “I know.”

He patiently waits in his seat for Gerard to get his seat belt. He’s pretty sure that his favorite moments are when Gerard leans over and buckles him in. Gerard’s arm stretches across him a moment later, and Frank hears the sound of the seat belt being pulled and then the click of it. He feels Gerard’s breath against his face again, and he remembers the last time that this happened. The last time Gerard did this, Frank had his first kiss. It was only a few hours ago, but already Frank feels like it’s a distant memory. It’s probably one of the best memories he has. He can’t think of any one that’s better than that one right now at least.

Gerard’s nose nudges against his for a moment before he’s kissing Frank again, very briefly. He pulls away not long after, and Frank can’t stop himself from wishing it had gone on for longer. It’s hard not to long for Gerard, even despite how much Frank tries to push those feelings down. He likes him. Frank really likes him. He can’t help that anymore. He can barely even pretend anymore.

Gerard does the same routine that he always does. Frank listens as Gerard puts his keys into the ignition and turns the car on. Then he's listening to the click of his belt and then the radio is the next thing he hears. Gerard instantly starts drumming his fingers on the staring wheel because a song he really likes is on. Frank wishes he could see him. The next thing he hears is Gerard's voice filling the car as he belts out the lyrics. Frank will never get tired of hearing Gerard sing. 

"Who needs music when my boyfriend can serenade me instead?"

Gerard looks over at Frank and sings in his face. "Before I close the door I need to hear you say goodbye. Baby won't you change your mind?"

Frank laughs and it's music to Gerard's ears. Gerard pulls the car out of the driveway and they’re off to add some to Frank's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized that we've breached 100,000 words. Whoa.


	24. Sweet and Cynical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I really should put a summary here.

As soon as Frank and Gerard enter the place, there's music playing through the speakers. Frank knows the band hasn't started yet, because Gerard told him what time they'd start. They’ve gotten to the place early so they could get something to eat and drink. The music isn't too loud that they have to scream over each other but it's loud nonetheless. Neither of them is complaining though and they both have pleasant smiles on their faces. 

Frank still can't believe this is his life right now. Not only does he have a boyfriend, but they're out on a date too. Frank clutches his cane tight in his hand at the same time Gerard pulls him closer. Frank wants to move away, because he doesn’t like how on display their relationship is, but he forces himself to stay at the hip with Gerard. It's not like he has anything to prove to himself or Gerard, and he shouldn't care about others in the place. 

Gerard takes Frank's cane and Frank feels himself starting to panic. Gerard obviously notices because Frank's whole body has gone stiff and he's also no longer moving. Gerard kisses Frank's cheek and rubs his back soothingly. 

"Hey, it's fine, Frankie. I just wanted to take off your coat. Is that okay?"

Frank nods quickly and let’s himself relax. Frank knows the reason he overreacted is due to what Blake had done to him, but he's with Gerard so he knows he's being silly. Gerard would never let anything happen to him, and he surely wouldn't take his cane away so that he can't see his way around. Frank doesn't even know why he brought his cane in the first place. Maybe for just in case matters, like having to beat the crap out of someone with it. 

"Yeah, that’s okay. I'm sorry."

Gerard slips Frank's coat off and folds it over his arm. He then gives Frank back his cane and hugs him. 

"I don't know what's up, but you're fine, okay?"

"Yes," Frank says.

"You're with me and I'd never hurt you."

"Yeah, I know," Frank sighs into the hug, "Sorry about that."

"It's understandable. Let's get a table and some food before the show starts, yeah?"

"Lead the way, comic boy."

Gerard smiles because he will never get tired of Frank calling him that. They could be old and grey and he'd still want to hear those words from Frank's mouth. Gerard guides Frank through the small sea of people until he finds an empty table at the back of the place, in an almost secluded area. It couldn't be more perfect. 

"We can sit here, eat, and then go listen to the show. Or we can stay at the table and just listen. It's really up to you."

"We'll see how I feel after I stuff my face."

Gerard laughs and nods, "That's fine."

Frank collapses his cane and sets it in his lap. Gerard smiles at him for what feels like the thousandth time. Actually, Gerard has barely stopped smiling since he met Frank, and even just looking at him, watching him do things makes Gerard smile for no reason. You could say the reason is that Gerard just really adores Frank. 

"So what do you want Frankie?"

Frank shrugs and scratches at his head for a moment. "I'll take fries since I'm sure a place like this doesn't have pizza."

"Don't you ever get tired of pizza?"

Frank looks in Gerard's direction, following his voice, because he can't see his hair in the horrible lighting, and raises a brow at him. "No, but I can get tired of _you_ if you tell me that I should be tired of it."

Gerard chuckles and raises his hands in surrender despite Frank not being able to see him. "I won't, I won't."

"Good," Frank smiles. 

"Anything to drink?"

"Coke!" Frank realizes how enthusiastic he was about his answer. "That's just another thing I'm really passionate about."

"Hey, no, that's fine. It's endearing."

Frank puts his chin in his hand on the table. "Is everything I do endearing to you?" Frank asks with a playful smirk on his face. 

"You could say that," Gerard smiles at Frank. Frank chuckles and then sighs, looking around to try and catch some kind of lighting but coming up short. 

"It would be better if this place had better lighting. I mean, I'm sure it's great lighting, but not to a blind kid who wants to see his boyfriend's bright red hair."

“I’m sorry,” Gerard says. “I should invest in some sort of spotlight that follows me around wherever I go.”

“I don’t think the technology has been invented quiet yet for that,” Frank replies.

Gerard just shrugs, “You hungry now? I could go place our order.”

“Uh yeah, sure,” He says. He stops himself from asking Gerard to be quick, because he knows it’ll make him sound too clingy. He doesn’t want that. Really, he just doesn’t want to be left alone in a place that’s kind of crowded when he can’t even see.

“Okay,” Gerard says, and Frank can hear the small sound of a chair scraping against the floor. “Be back soon. You sit there and look pretty.”

“I’d planned on it.”

Frank sighs when he knows Gerard is gone. He kind of feels like he misses him a little bit, which is ridiculous because he’s only been gone a few seconds, and he’s not going to be more than a few minutes. Frank knows he’s got it really bad for Gerard, just by that feeling. It’s kind of annoying in an also kind of pleasant way. He’s never been close enough to anyone to feel that way, and it’s so foreign, Frank’s not used to it yet, but he also feels overly familiar with the feeling for some reason. 

Maybe it’s because it’s Gerard. If it were someone else, and Frank almost gags at the idea of being with someone else, he wouldn’t be so at peace with feeling the way he does. He can’t fathom ever letting anyone call him their boyfriend that isn’t Gerard. That just doesn’t sound in anyway right. It feels wrong just to think about it. Gerard is Gerard, and Frank likes the way he is, even if Gerard is somewhat over the top sometimes. Frank likes that about him. 

He feels really familiar. Like Frank’s known him for years. It’s been about a month, but it feels more like a year. Maybe that’s just the way Gerard is. Maybe everyone is overly comfortable with him. Or maybe Frank’s special. He hopes it’s the latter. 

“Look who it is!” someone says and Frank groans. Of course. Maybe this is just his luck.

“Frankie, what’re you doing here?” someone else asks, and Frank knows who that voice belongs to. He knows who both of those people are, and he can’t believe his luck. He finally agrees to Gerard being his boyfriend and Mikey and Brendon just have to be there to tease him to no end about it. Except they’re right as of now. 

All the times they’ve made fun of Frank for dating Gerard, calling him his boyfriend, they’re now true. As of today, he’s actually dating Gerard. And Mikey’s asked him a million times if he’s kissed Gerard, and now he actually has. 

“What are you two doing here?” Frank asks.

“We’re here for the same reasons you are. Well, minus the whole making out with Gerard thing,” Brendon says.

“Yeah, there’s definitely not going to be any of that,” Mikey says.

“I’m not going to make out with Gerard!” Frank says, “How do you know I’m even here with Gerard?”

“Because you are.”

“But you can’t know that.”

“Yes we can. You’re here with Gerard,” Brendon says.

“But maybe I’m not,” Frank says.

“Nope,” Mikey says, “he’s here. I can sense it.”

“His spidey senses are tingling.” 

“Gross,” Mikey says.

“Where is he?” Brendon asks.

Frank decides that it’s not worth lying, because he’s going to be proven wrong any second now anyway. “He’s getting us food.” 

“You going to make out when he comes back?” Mikey asks.

“No,” Frank says. Maybe he can lie about _some_ things. Like the fact that he got his first kiss only a few hours ago. And the fact that his first kiss was with Mikey’s brother. And that Gerard’s a really good kisser. And that Frank gets a little tingly when Gerard so much as touches him. He can just leave those things out of the conversation. 

“Mind if I sit?” 

“Yes, actually, I’d rather you didn’t,” Frank says. He can already tell it’s too late because Mikey’s sitting down.

“Frank I- oh,” Gerard’s voice hits Frank’s ears and he can tell that Gerard’s seen Mikey, and has had a similar response to him as Frank had had. Frank doesn’t dislike Mikey, he honestly doesn’t, but he wants him to go the fuck away right now. He wants Brendon and Mikey to be murdered just for right now, because, Frank really wants to be alone with Gerard and he doesn’t exactly get that if they’re right there. 

"I believe you're in Gerard's seat. If you could just..." Frank does a shooing motion with his hand and Gerard laughs. 

Brendon covers his mouth to stop from laughing and Mikey just smiles. 

"You just want to be alone with Gerard."

"If I do you sure are doing a great job at preventing that now, aren't you?" Frank folds his arms across his chest. 

Mikey laughs and shakes his head. "Look man, it's okay. You're allowed to just say it you know." Mikey smirks as Frank sighs because he knows he's close to getting Frank to admit something about their relationship for once. 

Frank's so annoyed with Mikey right now he considers pulling out his cane and whacking Mikey's foot until it falls off. Frank has a deep scowl on his face and it just makes Gerard smile at him even more. 

"Frankie doesn't have to admit anything to you guys if he doesn't want to. That's probably not even the case," Gerard says that last sentence knowingly and he can tell by the way Frank's face reddens that he noticed. 

Frank shakes off the feeling of him wanting Gerard on him now. "Yeah, but it is the case." Frank's voice is barely there when he says that but all of the guys smile at each other, telling them that they all heard. "So if you all could just..." Frank shoos them again and they all laugh. Frank doesn’t appreciate being laughed at.

"Hey, you got it man," Mikey scoots his chair back and stands up. "Have fun, bro."

“Make sure you keep him in one piece,” Brendon says, winking at Gerard creepily, and Frank aims his middle finger in the direction that Brendon’s voice is in. 

“I didn’t even kind of fool them did I?” Frank asks.

“Oh, you’re cute,” Gerard says, which isn’t really an answer, but Frank pretty much knows what he means anyway.

“Did you order our food?” 

“Yep. It’ll be out soon.”

“Are they still there?” Frank asks, “Are they watching us?”

“Nope,” Gerard says, “does that mean I can kiss you?”

“Yeah, just make sure they’re not there first.”

“I need binoculars just to kiss my boyfriend.”

“But I’m worth it and there’s no way you’re going to deny that,” Frank smiles. Gerard sits down in the seat next to him, pulling it closer to Frank, and grinning back at Frank sheepishly. He can’t help but act like Frank can see him whenever they’re together. Sometimes he’s glad that Frank can’t, because Gerard’s always smiling like a fool. 

“Gonna kiss you now,” Gerard announces. He usually lives up to his promises, and this time is no different. Well, it’s a little different. Because this time someone shouts ecstatically behind them, and Frank’s honestly not even surprised. He knew it was going to come out eventually. He’s not good at lying apparently.

“I fucking told you, Mikey!” Brendon is shouting. 

“I hate you, Frank!” Mikey is saying, “You couldn’t have waited, like, three more days?”

“What?” Frank asks, because now he’s confused. He’s pretty sure Mikey wanted them together more than Frank wanted them together, and Frank _really_ wanted him and Gerard together. 

Gerard is pulling away from Frank, so Frank is most definitely going to hit one or both of them with his cane. Repeatedly. 

“I swear I didn’t see them,” Gerard says, “they went away! Like, they did! I watched!”

“Mikey, I believe you owe me twenty bucks,” Brendon says.

“What?” Frank asks, “You bet on us?” 

“Duh,” Brendon says, happily.

“Just three more days and that money would’ve been mine,” Mikey grumbles. 

“Wait, what was your bet?” Frank asks. 

“Twenty bucks said you would get together before this Monday,” Brendon says, “and the money is mine!”

“Frank, are you going to try to tell us that that wasn’t a kiss?” Mikey asks. “Or that you’re not dating, you just like making out?”

“I- uh,” Frank starts but then he frowns. He doesn’t want to insult Gerard by denying anything, because he really likes Gerard and he doesn’t want him to get the idea that Frank is in anyway ashamed of liking or dating him. That’s not at all how Frank feels, so he doesn’t want Gerard to get that misconception. 

Frank can actually picture Gerard looking at him hopefully. He doesn’t know what the guy looks like so his image of him is mostly just a blob with red hair, but he knows that Gerard’s probably looking at him with so much hope. He’s probably hoping Frank gives him the permission to rub it in the two guys’ faces that Frank’s his boyfriend. Frank can picture that too and it’s extremely adorable.

“No,” Frank says, “Gerard is my boyfriend.”

“Hand over my money, Way,” Brendon says, and Mikey groans. 

Mikey says, “I’m happy for you and all, because Gerard looks like Christmas came early, and Frank, you look like you’re trying to pretend that you don’t feel like Christmas came early, but seriously, fuck both of you. You just needed to drag it out for a few more days, but you couldn’t do that much, and I’ll never forgive you for that.”

"How about you will forgive me and I'll pretend you didn't place some bet on the blind guy and his fire truck head boyfriend? Or else I'll whoop you with my cane."

Gerard raises his brows high in the air and giggles at the two boys. Brendon looks incredibly gleeful, while Mikey’s got a mix between annoyance and relief. 

"You probably should forgive him, Mikes," Brendon says and Mikey shrugs. 

"I guess so. Congrats assholes."

"Fuck you, Mikey," Frank retaliates and Gerard has to laugh. 

"That's more Gerard's job don't you think?" Mikey smirks and walks off before Frank can even try to get him back for that. He will though. He will definitely get Mikey back.

Brendon just laughs and heads in the same direction as Mikey. When they're gone for sure Gerard looks at Frank and smiles. Gerard takes Frank's hand in his and intertwines their fingers. 

"You know that just made me really happy. Saying I'm your boyfriend and everything. I wasn't expecting that. It's a nice feeling being able to hear you admit that to others," Gerard ducks his head on Frank's shoulder. Frank's a little surprised but he just stays there and smiles. 

"I'm glad you're happy. Don't think I'll be shouting it from the rooftops anytime soon though."

"Trust me, I don't think that. Just... thank you."

"You don't ever have to thank me for that. I should thank you for even taking an interest in me in the first place," Frank says.

"Oh, come on, Frankie. Don't say that. It doesn't sit well with me when you talk like that."

"Talk like what?"

"Like you're not likable or lovable because you're blind. Anyone who can't see what an amazing person you are is the blind one, okay? Not you. You can see with so much more than they can and you can feel with your hands but most of all with your heart. I can feel for you and I do. Don't ever thank me for being able to see the beauty in you."

Frank turns to Gerard and Gerard takes that as a chance to really kiss Frank this time. There's no one there to interrupt them and Frank loves it almost more than Gerard does. Frank puts his hand at the nape of Gerard's neck and plays with the little bit of hair there, as he deepens the kiss. Frank feels the vibration of Gerard's moan on his lips and for once he's upset that the music is so loud. Frank's a little aware that they're out in the open so he pulls back a little. 

They're foreheads are still together and they're panting on each other's lips. Frank's hands fall slowly from Gerard's neck and Gerard loosens his grip on Frank's waist. "I think the food should be finished soon. We should... you know." Frank doesn't really want Gerard to let go of him but it has to be done at some point. 

“I think we’ve got a couple of minutes,” Gerard says. 

“Are people looking at us?” Frank asks.

“Well they’re probably just jealous of how attractive my boyfriend is.”

“So people _are_ looking at us.”

“Fuck them,” Gerard replies. 

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“You’re so fucking adorable.”

“I’m not aiming for adorable, Gerard! I’ve told you this already.”

“Frank, you behave adorably, and look hot. Perfect mix if you ask me,” Gerard says.

“I’m hungry. Our food is probably done,” Frank says.

“You trying to get rid of me so that you don’t have to agree that you’re adorable?” Gerard asks. Somehow he’s able to read Frank’s mind and it’s getting ridiculous how good he is at it. 

“Maybe. But I am hungry. That’s not a joke,” Frank says, “All I had for lunch was a sandwich and it wasn’t a very good sandwich either, so I’m really hungry. I’ll kiss you if you go get our food.”

“Oh so you’re bribing me now, are you?”

“Yep. Anything to get food,” Frank says.

“That’s all I am to you? A walking wallet?” Gerard asks, jokingly.

“Absolutely,” Frank says. “But I imagine you’re a very pretty walking wallet.”

“That’s kind of you to say.”

“You also make a fairly successful radio. You never seem to stop singing, but I kind of like that too.”

“Well to me you’re very sweet and sarcastic, extremely cynical, but in a good way, a way that’s really very specific to you and only you. And you’re a superhero but you haven’t realized it yet.”

“Gerard, you can’t say something really nice and heartfelt while I’m in the middle of joking about how I see you as a talking wallet! It makes me seem insensitive.”

Gerard shrugs, “I’m sorry, I didn’t get the memo. It’s true though.”

“You were going to get us our food,” Frank reminds him. 

“Yeah, be back in a second,” Gerard says, kissing Frank’s cheek before he goes. Frank blushes a little bit, feeling eyes on him that he can’t see. Also, the part of his face where Gerard’s lips were now feels really warm like he set the skin on fire, but not in a bad way. It's just that Gerard leaves Frank feeling like that after almost every touch. Frank can't fathom how he's able to do that either. Even the simplest touch turns into hot coal when it's from Gerard. Or maybe it's Frank that turns hot. Who really cares, right? The point is that they make each other feel things they've never felt before. 

Frank shifts uncomfortably in his seat and looks around the dimly lit room. It's almost as if he can literally feel their eyes on him. It should be against the law to sit and stare at people, and for a second Frank's glad he can't see so he's not one of those people. Frank grasps his cane in his hand just in case, and then he sighs. He wants Gerard back here now. 

It’s as if Frank's wishing is enough because moments later he hears a bit of clattering, and he feels like someone is standing over him. That someone is also looking at him and Frank doesn't mind one bit. Frank hears him sigh and automatically he stiffens up. He's just waiting for something to go wrong and this has to be it, right?

"What is it?" Frank asks.

"I forgot to ask you if you wanted anything for your fries."

"That's it?"

"Yes..."

"Goodness Gerard. It's fine okay! Now who's the adorable one?" Frank says.

Gerard blushes and mumbles about not being adorable at all to himself, and if Frank heard him he decides not to argue at this moment about it. His fries are calling his name. 

"Isn't there salt on the table?" 

"Yeah, oddly enough."

"So sit down. I don’t need anything else,” Frank says, like it’s obvious. Gerard nods, and then remembers for the umpteenth time that Frank can’t see it so he makes a noise and then takes his seat next to Frank again. 

Gerard’s feeling really nervous around him all of a sudden, and he’s not sure what the source of that is. It’s probably just because he feels awkward with the fact that Frank is terribly out of his league. It’s almost not even fair to Frank that he has to settle with someone who doesn’t even compare to him on a scale. 

“You know, like, you can have some,” Frank says, “I mean, you paid for them, I’m not going to monopolize the food.”

“What? Oh, right yeah, sorry. I was just thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” 

“Nothing.”

“Gerard,” Frank says expectantly.

“Fine, alright. I get it, it’s not a real answer. I was just thinking that, you’re, like, I don’t know, way too good for me.”

“Ugh, seriously?” Frank asks, stopping eating for a moment to look in Gerard’s direction, “I mean, I can’t see, so like, I’m not really the best judge at this am I? I don’t know what the hell you look like, and that kind of kills me a little bit, because I really want to know, but I don’t get to choose this sort of thing. One thing I do know is that I’m pretty good at figuring out whether a person is attractive, because they’re treated nicer. I know that’s not really an answer, but it is, in a way. Pretty people are treated subtly more different than otherwise. The way you interact with people, Gerard, makes me believe that you must be good looking.”

“That’s really just a theory,” Gerard says.

“It’s more of a science,” Frank says, “I’m almost sure of it. And why should it matter what you look like, Gerard? You could look like Bigfoot and I won’t ever know. I’m relatively impartial about what other people look like. I couldn’t care less.”

“I know, and I try not to, but, I do care. I can’t help it.”

“Well yeah, you can’t really help it, can you? Sighted people always care. I’m not saying that’s bad, because that’s just the way people are. But it’s not really like my opinion matters, because it’s your self-image, not mine, but, like, I don’t care. I like your hair. I bet it looks better than I imagine it does.”

“You might not want to hear this, because I know how much you like being cynical, but you’re actually really sweet, Frank,” Gerard says.

“Uh oh,” Frank responds, “My cover’s been blown. You talk too much, and you put way too much sugar in your coffee. It’s gross.” 

Gerard grins at Frank, who’s gone back to munching on the fries in front of him. Gerard honestly really loves the way Frank says things like that. Even though he’s technically insulting Gerard, it doesn’t come across that way. It just comes across as Frank. 

“I bet Brendon’s already texted Pete and Patrick,” Frank says.

“Yeah, probably.” 

“They’re going to give me so much shit on Monday,” Frank shakes his head. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing that they’ll be teasing me about you then. Because if it were someone else, they wouldn’t be as great a person, so you’re easier to defend.”

Gerard blushes, and he’s glad that the room around them isn’t very bright, and for the fact that Frank can’t see him. Gerard did not think when he saw Frank in the food court a month ago that the guy would end up making him blush. He didn’t think he’d end up reading several issues of Daredevil to him either. Frank’s really upended his entire life, and it’s one of the best things that’s ever happened to him. 

“You’re blushing, aren’t you?” Frank asks.

“What?”

“Well, you said I make you feel the same way that you make me feel. So you’re blushing, and that’s why you didn’t reply.”

“You may not be able to see, but you sure as hell are good at reading people,” Gerard says. 

"Why thank you, Gee," Frank smiles and it lights up Gerard's world. Gerard smiles back and reaches for a fry. "I really do wish I could see you though."

"I know, Frankie. I kind of wish you could to so you can see how you make me feel."

"I can feel how I make you feel. I told you, I feel hot when you touch me," Frank shrugs and munches on a fry.

“At least you’ll be able to see me someday,” Gerard sighs, and Frank doesn’t argue, because he doesn’t want to have to hit Gerard with the unlikelihood of that reality. For now, he’ll let Gerard get his hopes up, because his heart isn’t big enough to bear hurting someone he likes so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment?


	25. Our Lives Have Changed, For The Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hardcore fluff.

“Are you still hungry? Because we could stop somewhere and I could get you something, because, like, I don’t want you to-”

“Gerard, you’re spoiling me,” Frank says.

“Maybe I want to spoil you,” Gerard shrugs.

“But I don’t want our relationship to be solely based on you buying me things. Food is one thing, but I’ve already eaten, and now you’re offering more food, which is just, like, I don’t have a bottomless pit in my stomach. I am fine.”

“Just want to check, I’m sorry. I just want to make sure you’re happy.”

“I am, you don’t need to worry about that.”

“I just, like, I want to spoil you, and I can’t help that. You deserve to have nice things.”

“I have you,” Frank says, before realizing what he said, and instantly feeling his cheeks burning. 

Gerard doesn’t respond immediately, he just sort of sits there in his seat trying to figure out when Frank became so adorable. Like, three weeks ago, Frank probably would’ve preferred stapling himself to a tree than saying something like that.

“You’re cute,” Gerard says. 

“No,” Frank says, frowning. He shivers slightly, blaming it on the fact that Gerard only just turned the car on and the heating hasn’t made him any warmer yet. 

“Are you cold?” Gerard asks, and Frank knows he’s turned the heating on higher by the sound it makes. Sort of a light whooshing sound. 

“We should just go home,” Frank says, “You can hang out a while.”

“It’s almost midnight,” Gerard points out.

“But it’s a weekend, I don’t have school tomorrow, and you said that you don’t have to work until Sunday. So like, you could spend a little while with me?”

“You used to never be able to get rid of me fast enough,” Gerard says.

“I think we can both accept that we’ve reached that point. Okay? Like, Gerard, I let you put your tongue in my mouth, I think you can pretty much accept that I like having you around.”

“You are adorable,” Gerard says, leaning over to Frank to get his seatbelt. Some things never change. Frank doesn’t protest, he’s pretty much used to not being able to breathe when Gerard is this close, it’s nothing new, but it still catches him off guard. He still has a momentary lapse of panic when he realizes that air won’t fill his lungs anymore. It’s not even unpleasant to him at this point. He kind of likes forgetting how to breathe, because it means Gerard’s really close. Way too close, but the good kind of way too close.

“You’re not breathing,” Gerard says, his breath falling over Frank’s face, and he’s not sure when Gerard had a breath mint, but he must’ve. It occurs to Frank that it’s entirely likely he did that because he had every intention of kissing him, and now Frank feels kind of self-conscious of how bad his breath probably is.

“I’m not?” Frank asks.

“No, you’re not,” Gerard tells him.

“Oh,” Frank squeaks. 

Gerard pulls away from him, leaving Frank feeling the slightest bit saddened that he didn’t kiss him. Frank has no idea when this became his way of thinking either. Gerard’s insanely good at making him rethink things. He can’t believe half of the things he’s done and said just because Gerard makes him feel comfortable.

He does though. Frank thinks that’s the best way to describe what Gerard is to him. Sure, the guy can put Frank on edge when he’s too close or when he makes silence too thick like every single instance that he’s buckled Frank’s seat belt, but at the same time, it’s a familiar kind of tension. One that’s not uncomfortable, just extremely heavy. Frank’s not sure he understands it, but he’s also pretty sure that he doesn’t have to understand it because all that matters is that Gerard makes him happier than he usually is.

Frank isn’t an overwhelmingly happy person, and he never really has been. Not since everything went dark, and he thinks he has every right to be able to think of the world in a very negative way because of the things that have happened to him, but then he’s with Gerard and it’s almost like he sees things. He can just picture the world, the way leaves look on trees, the way the sky looks with big puffy clouds, and he can almost see a face or two when he’s with Gerard. He knows that it’s all in his head, and that his sight isn’t actually getting better, but it’s because of the fact that it’s in his head that it’s so exciting. Gerard makes him feel a mile happier about existing, and it’s the best feeling in the world. 

He doesn’t get it, and that’s okay. He just knows that he really likes it.

Gerard switches on the radio a minute later and Frank grins the minute Gerard starts to sing along. Frank’s pretty sure he knows the lyrics to half of the songs on the radio, even the bad ones. And when he doesn’t know the words he just mumbles along with passion. He fails quite often, but he does so with style.

Frank laughs at him, feeling the car’s engine start to rumble and he wishes he could see Gerard singing along. Frank imagines he’s the kind of guy who uses his hairbrush as a microphone. He also would love to hear Gerard try to sing a duet all by himself. Or maybe Bohemian Rhapsody.

“We just left a place with music, and you’re ready to blow your eardrums out even more?” Frank asks. 

“Damn right,” Gerard replies, “there’s no such thing as too much music.”

“You’re weird,” Frank sighs, shaking his head, but smiling all the same. He’s a little too caught up in it all that he’s surprised when he feels the car stop.

“Are we at my house?” Frank asks.

“Yep,” Gerard says, taking the keys out of the ignition, making the song stop abruptly.

“Oh,” Frank says.

“I’m going to walk you to the door, you know,” Gerard tells him.

“I figured,” Frank says. He unbuckles his own seat belt, and hears Gerard hurrying with his. Then Gerard’s running around to the other side of the car to beat Frank to it. He opens it for Frank and holds his hand out for him to hold.

“It’s not slippery, I’m fine,” Frank says.

“Yeah but maybe I just want to hold your hand.”

Frank smiles, but tries to hide it, because he doesn’t know when he started liking the cheesy things coming out of Gerard’s mouth, but he knows that he does definitely like to hear it.

Gerard brings him to the front door, and Frank can tell he’s probably waiting for Frank to tell him to leave.

“You know I gotta give you a goodnight kiss,” Gerard says.

“No, not out here,” Frank says, “it’s cold, our lips might freeze together.”

“I don’t see how that would be a bad thing,” Gerard replies.

“You’re annoying, and I wanted you to hang out for a while, so just, come in, okay?” Frank says, and he takes his key, unlocking the door after a few failed attempts. He’s then pulling Gerard in behind him, trying to be quiet because he knows his mom is probably sleeping. 

“Fucking freezing,” Frank mumbles when he realizes how much warmer it is inside the house than it is out there. 

Gerard takes Frank's coat from him and hangs it up and then his own right after. Frank hears a noise in the distance and turns towards it. Gerard notices and notes that the kitchen light is on. Frank walks forward and into the room that he knows is the kitchen. 

"Frankie!" Frank's mother says in mock shock, and Frank would roll his eyes if he could. "Oh! Gerard too! How nice." 

Gerard smiles at Frank's mom. 

"Shouldn't you be sleeping mom?"

"I just wanted to make sure you got home safely, Frankie."

"Well here I am. In one piece and happy. You don't need to worry any longer. You can go to bed now," Frank rushes out as he tries to get his mother to go in her room. 

"Now wait a minute. How was your date?"

"Date? Who says it was a date?"

"You do Frankie."

"It was," Frank sighs, admitting it to his mother and Gerard smiles. It warms his heart that Frank isn't going to fight this with his mother. 

"So how was it?"

"It was very fun and loud. I got to hear some great music and listen with some people who I don’t want to keep their toes. All in all we had tons of fun," Frank sighs and continues on. "Now I was just thinking that maybe Gerard could hang out here with me a little longer. Maybe past three in the morning."

She and Gerard both look at each other with shocked expressions on their faces. In seconds Frank gets this overwhelming feeling that they're both staring at him and he's right. 

"I-I think that would be okay with me. Um, let me just get out of your way. You can make some snacks and watch television if you want."

"I think we're just going to go to my room," Frank says with a little twinge of embarrassment. He wasn't planning for anything to happen but he's sure all of their brains wandered to that tangent anyway. 

"Oh! Well alright then."

“Shit, I... uh,” Frank drifts off, “oh god, I don’t know.”

“I’ll just leave you two,” Frank’s mother says, and Frank internally cringes at how suggestive that had sounded. 

“We could watch a movie?” Frank says, but Gerard’s already dragging them into Frank’s room, and he doesn’t stop it. He knows that Gerard knows him well enough to know that that had all been inadvertent, but he’s still humiliated about it.

“I like that your mom loves me,” Gerard says, closing the door to Frank’s room.

“I don’t know why,” Frank says, “She never trusts anyone, not even me, but she’ll let you get away with fucking anything! She’d let you take me to a biker bar if you asked.”

“Aw, she trusts you,” Gerard says, “She’s just nervous that you might get hurt.”

Gerard pulls him over to Frank’s bed and sits down, against the headboard, moving the pillow out of the way so that he doesn’t sit on it. He then gets Frank to sit next to him, and wraps his arm around Frank’s shoulder. 

“She doesn’t trust me very much,” Frank says, “I don’t know what it is about you, but she just lets you do anything. Gerard, I don’t think I’d have even be allowed to date if it weren’t _you_.”

“No, I don’t think you’re giving her enough credit. It’s not easy, I imagine, Frank, you’re quite a handful. Like, I can’t even begin to understand how tough it must be to want to give your kid everything, but only be able to give him so little.”

“But she does trust you more,” Frank says.

“I think what you construe as trusting me more, is just her believing that I won’t let anyone hurt you. She trusts you more, Frank, we both know that, but she knows I’m not going to let you do something that could end up hurting you.”

“So does this mean you’re on alert so that I don’t walk into traffic, because I have been known to do that? It’s fun making people shit themselves while they worry.”

“You would not,” Gerard says skeptically.

“I have, and I will do it again. I’m smarter than people give me credit for. It’s easy to figure out where things are just by listening to them. Like a bat or something. That whole echolocation thing.”

“I keep telling you that you’re a superhero.”

"Yeah, well. I am kind of special."

"You are."

Frank gets quiet and stands up to go over to his dresser. He opens his correct drawer and pulls out a pair of pajama pants. He throws them on his bed and goes to the next drawer. He pulls out a shirt and throws that one on his bed to. Frank walks over to his closet and opens the door when his hand catches the knob finally. He kicks his shoes off inside and then closes the door back. 

"I'm going to change my clothes. Maybe you should turn around or leave for a second."

“Why?” Gerard asks, “Are you modest?”

“Gerard, I’m not just going to give you a strip tease, okay?” Frank says. “And if you think I would, then you’re delusional. 

“You’re just cute that’s all,” Gerard says, “It’s not like I’ve never seen you shirtless.”

“Yeah, but last time you got all weird about it. Just put a pillow over your head,” Frank says, “And I will know if you peek, okay?”

“Alright, if you want,” Gerard says, grabbing the pillow he’d just moved and putting it over his head.

Frank hears him say something muffled, and asks, “What?”

“I just said that your pillow smells nice. Like shampoo.”

“Well there’s probably a good reason for that,” Frank says, pulling his shirt over his head.

“I suppose your right, but it smells nice anyway. You smell nice.”

Frank rolls his eyes, and finishes pulling his pants on, so he then goes back to sit next to Gerard. Gerard wraps his hands around Frank’s stomach and puts his head on Frank’s shoulder, which makes Frank believe that he’s probably never been more content. Gerard’s really warm, and Frank could die like this.

“What kind of shampoo do you use?” Gerard asks.

“Boy you really know how to do small talk.”

“It’s just really nice. Mine smells like chemicals, I don’t like it.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Frank says, “in case you forgot, I can’t read the label on shampoo bottles.”

“Well there’s one benefit then. Because before I take pain killers I always accidentally read the bottle and then worry that I’m going to die for like seven hours,” Gerard says.

“That totally makes up for how difficult my life is, why did I never realize that?”

“Hey, no need to get snippy, I was just saying that it was one benefit,” Gerard says, “I would never claim to know how hard it is to be you.”

“It’s kind of nice having you here though,” Frank says, smiling. Gerard kisses his cheek, and Frank still wonders when his body will stop burning wherever Gerard kisses him. It’s still a good kind of burning, and Frank honestly hopes that it’ll never go away, but he also feels like it’s way too emotional a reaction. 

“What are you thinking right now?” Gerard asks.

“What?”

“You’ve got this look on your face like you’re thinking. What are you thinking about?” 

“I don’t know, just you, and me, and shitty cliché stuff like that. You know what annoys me? Hipsters who put annoyingly romantic quotes on pictures of sun flares and stuff, but right now, I feel like one of them, because all I keep thinking are stupid quotes. Like my head is just one giant Taylor Swift lyric.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but I’m going to say good,” Gerard says. 

“Yes, very,” Frank nods, “because there’s no denying that some lyrics just get it right, and I’m just really happy right now. I will rip out your teeth individually with a pair of pliers if you ever tell anyone that, but I am pretty happy.”

“It’s very good that you always remind me of things like that, otherwise I’d probably tell everyone in the world how cute you are. I’d buy a skywriter. Then again, I’d probably only succeed in making literally everyone on the planet jealous.” 

“You’re a walking Taylor Swift quote yourself. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, I don’t have any reason to dislike her, but you have to understand how cheesy you are. Gerard, you’re the dream guy in every high school movie in the world. You’re that guy that the girl has a crush on and talks about to her friends and one day bumps into the girl, making her drop her books and then you help her pick them up, and you stare deeply into each other’s eyes. That’s you, you’re that guy.”

“Well than what does that make you?” Gerard asks.

“Me?” Frank asks, “I suppose I’m the girl whose mom recently died and sits in my room all day playing guitar but refusing to ever play in front of other people even though my friends all insist I’m great. I’m the girl who’s ‘not like the other girls’, because I don’t shop at Forever 21 or something. I’m the girl with little to no personality whose only purpose in the movie is to end up with Mr. Perfect and his dazzlingly bright teeth.”

“Oh no, well I guess I can’t be him, because my teeth have a shit ton of coffee stains,” Gerard says.

“Gerard, when will you ever learn how this works? I’m blind, okay, so you can tell me literally anything you want and I’m just going to have to believe it. Tell me you have yellow eyes and blue skin and I can’t prove you wrong. So if you say you’re teeth blind small children I’ll just have to tell you that that’s very impolite, coming from a blind person, I think you should stop blinding small people.”

Gerard laughs, and nuzzles the back of Frank’s neck, which in turn makes Frank’s heart do some jump roping and forces him to giggle. Why the fuck does Gerard have to be so perfect?

"You almost make me hate how perfect you are."

"I'm far from perfect." Gerard protests, because he's never felt like he was. Gerard's not the golden child. He doesn't have a bunch of friends and a ton of people flocking around him wanting his number. He's the lonely boy that works at a comic store who hits on boys who can't see how much of a lame loser he is. Well just the one boy, but it’s enough. Frank doesn’t see him as the loser he is.

"I think you are even if you aren't. You think how you do about me, so I'm entitled to do the same."

"I know, but I still say I'm a nobody."

"Nah, I disagree."

"Why?"

"Because you're my boyfriend, so that makes you somebody. And you know what I want that somebody to do right now?"

"What?"

"I want you to lay down with me."

"I'd never object to that."

Gerard lets Frank go so they can maneuver themselves on Frank's bed. They lay down facing each other and Frank sighs. This is so insane when he thinks about it. How is this his real life? How is Frank lying in bed with someone who actually invests most of his time in him?

"It's still so unbelievable that you're here with me." Frank speaks softly into the darkness. 

"You have no idea how much I feel the same way."

“Do you know what your brother is probably thinking right now?” Frank asks.

“Frank, there will never be a time in my life where I would ever even think about considering what goes on in that kid’s freaky little mind,” Gerard replies, and Frank laughs. He gets a little closer to Gerard, letting his head rest in the nook under Gerard’s neck. 

Frank’s never understood the appeal of cuddling. Never. He has never once thought the idea sounded nice in any way. He would think that you’d get really sweaty because having someone pressed up against you would make you really warm. He would think that you’d be forced to have your arm in some uncomfortable position, and one of your body parts might fall asleep. So you might be trying to wake up your foot and in the process kick whoever you’re cuddling with and piss them off. And then there’s the fact that one of you will likely fall asleep, and what if you’re in an uncomfortable position? What if your arm is stuck under their body and you need to scratch your nose? What if they’re wrapped around you like an octopus and you realize you need to pee? There’s so many things that could and probably will go wrong that Frank just thinks it’s a stupid practice altogether.

But then there’s Gerard.

Frank could write a book, he could write a _series_ of books actually, filled with all of the things he thought would be awful that Gerard has now proved him wrong on. He thought having a boyfriend would be awful. Wrong. He thought kissing someone would be awful. Wrong. He thought kissing someone would be really gross. Wrong. A little right, but mostly wrong. It would be really gross if it weren’t Gerard he was kissing. He thought cuddling would be awful. Wrong. Frank never wants to move from this spot ever again. He wants Gerard to hold him really close, and he wants Gerard to run his fingers along Frank’s back. He just wants Gerard. All that he can give him, Frank wants it.

“He and Brendon are probably talking about you and me right now,” Frank says, sighing.

“Yeah, or maybe they’re talking about the cute weathergirl on channel five. Or they’re talking about Mad Max, or Pringles, or any number of other things. They like to tease us, Frank, sure, but you know Mikey and Brendon, and those other two guys, they just want you to be happy. You know that right?”

“What do you think my mom thinks we’re doing? Oh god,” Frank says, putting his head against Gerard’s chest like if he hides from the idea it’ll just go away.

“You worry too much,” Gerard says, “relax, okay? No one thinks lesser of you because you and I are together.”

“Well I could think of a few people who probably wouldn’t want you and me together. And by a few I mean a mass majority of the population.”

“Frank, don’t talk like that,” Gerard says, “screw anyone who doesn’t like it. They’ll never get to understand what you mean to me.”

“I’m going to say something that also comes with a warning that if it leaves this room, you will not see the light of day again, just like me. And that is that I think it’s worth it to be with you. I think it’s worth being teased by Mikey. It’s worth all the shitty stuff, because right now, right now with you, and all the other times with you, I feel safe. I feel like Odysseus finally coming home whenever you hold me. And despite how much I like you, I will still murder you if you repeat that to anyone.”

Gerard grins, and holds Frank tighter.

“Why is it that you have such a bravado you need to maintain? What’s wrong with just being Frank? Just being this Frank, the one who’s cute and sweet and was a poet in another life. What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s the one who let me become blind,” Frank says.

Gerard gets quiet for a moment. He leans down a little and kisses Frank's forehead. 

"Yeah, and he's the one I also don't think I ever want to live without."

"You don't really know that Frank."

"I'll spend the rest of my days trying to learn him. This is day one, right here, right now. I'm learning what a beautiful person he is in addition to this cynical Frank." 

"Why are you so set on making me smile?" Frank whispers into Gerard's neck, and Gerard hears the smile in his voice. 

"I told you, I love seeing you smile. It's beautiful and I just can't get enough of it."

Frank lifts his head and Gerard moves back a little. Gerard takes off Frank's glasses and sits them on his desk. He turns back to Frank and pushes his hair behind his ear. Frank moves closer to Gerard's face and Gerard meets him the rest of the way, connecting their lips for what feels like the hundredth time that day. Not that either of them are complaining. 

Frank sighs into the kiss and runs his free hand up Gerard's body until his hand is in his soft hair. Frank pulls Gerard into the kiss more, and opens his mouth inviting Gerard's tongue inside. Gerard happily takes the invitation as he slides his tongue inside of Frank's mouth to mingle with his. Gerard's whole body trembles with the feeling of Frank close to him and kissing him so intimately. Gerard always felt he'd get Frank, but he never thought it would actually _happen_. Feeling something and knowing are two different things, but he's so happy it's reality. 

Gerard pulls back and runs his hand down Frank's face. Frank's panting into Gerard's face and Gerard loves it. Frank's breath ghosting over his lips reminds him just how close they are and how he makes Frank feel. 

"I'll never get tired of us leaving each other breathless." Gerard admits. 

"I have to agree with you there. If I never breathe again I'd be happy knowing it was because of the way you make me feel."

Gerard giggles, biting his lip and feeling complete and pure joy, because this is Frank. It can never fully quite sink in, and that’s okay. It doesn’t have to sink in, Gerard just has to make sure to remember that this is his life, and it’s the happiest he’s ever been in it. 

“Gerard?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry it took me so long to realize that I wanted to be with you,” Frank says, and Gerard really can’t take it. He can’t take how happy he always is around Frank. It’s like he’s a glass full to the brim of happiness but Frank just keeps pouring in more. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of it.

“That’s okay, Frankie.”

“No, I mean, I’m really sorry. I’m pretty annoying a lot of the time. Well, most of the time. I don’t know how you put up with it, really, but it means a lot that you do.”

“I like it when you’re trying to push people away. I don’t know why. I really shouldn’t like it, but I do.”

“Well then we make a good couple, because I like the way you do most of everything,” Frank says, blushing. He’s thankful that they’re alone.

Gerard lays down and kisses Frank's forehead again. "Hey, can you turn around?"

"You're pretty bold you know?"

"Haha, nah. I would never be that crude to you."

"I might like it. You'll never know," Frank gets up and rolls over. He lays down and snuggles into Gerard. 

Gerard wraps his arm around Frank's middle, and Frank rests his arm on top of Gerard's. Gerard lays his face on top of Frank's in a comfortable way and he sighs. This is what his dreams have been made of and he's glad Frank's accepting it now. 

"When I first saw you I knew you'd change my life." Gerard says. "I never thought I'd change yours too."

"Well you have... for the better. I'm glad I went to the mall that day. I'm happy I've met my comic boy."

Gerard squeezes Frank tightly and kisses him on his head. 

"I'm glad I am a comic boy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always like fluffy chapters best.


	26. I'm Going To Kiss You Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey is a lil creepy.

“Frank?”

Frank twitches a little in his sleep, not moving because he’s not aware that he is asleep. He should be, given that he’s looking at dolphins which is impossible given that Frank can’t look at anything. Sometimes though he gets those good dreams where he gets to see things, and this is one of those such dreams.

“Frank,” the voice says again, and he knows that they’re whispering. He doesn’t want to bring himself to a point where he can be classified as ‘conscious’, but he is at least aware now that he’s not asleep. He’s in that fuzzy state between rolling around to fix whatever uncomfortable position you’re in, and just going back to bed.

“Frankie?” they say again, quietly, and Frank realizes this time that it’s Gerard’s voice. He smiles at that, because Gerard is probably the one and only person who could wake him up from a dream where he actually got to see something, and it’s okay. If it were someone else, Frank would sock them in the nose. 

“Frankie,” Gerard says again, and Frank sighs. He’d be content to just lie here forever and have Gerard whisper his name in his ear like that. He’s also aware of the fact that he’s the most comfortable he can ever remember being. Gerard’s chest is pressed against his back, with his arms wrapped around Frank’s torso, and he’s not sure that he’s not in heaven. That seems more likely than the actuality that he’s this comfortable with someone as amazing as Gerard. Things like this just don’t happen to him ever. Yet here he is.

“Can’t you tell that I’m asleep?” Frank asks.

“I can, but I just... like you’re really cute, and I didn’t know how to move without waking you, but I gotta pee.”

Frank laughs lightly to himself, but he doesn’t want Gerard to get up because that would mean that his warmth would go with him, and Frank really wants Gerard’s body heat. He just wants it right there with him wherever he goes to the end of time.

“What time is it?” Frank asks.

“It’s about eight in the morning,” Gerard says, and Frank nods. He should probably be concerned with his mother’s reaction over the fact that Gerard slept over, but he doubts she’s going to be all that angry about it. Nothing _happened_ , Gerard just fell asleep.

“I don’t want you to go,” Frank says honestly.

“Just gimme a minute, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“Ugh, fine,” Frank sighs, feeling Gerard wiggle around behind him until he’s gone. Frank can hear footsteps, a door opening, and then the sound of his mother moving around in the kitchen when Gerard leaves his door slightly ajar. 

Frank wishes Gerard were back here now. He wishes that he would come back and hold Frank the same way as before. 

He still hasn’t opened his eyes, but he doesn’t really need to. He already knows what he’ll see and that’s okay, he supposes. He’s used to it by now, but everyday seems to be the same. He still feels his heart beat a little bit faster the seconds before his eyes open, because maybe this time, he’ll see. Maybe this time when his eyes blink open he’ll see the popcorn ceiling or the green walls. Maybe he’ll squint at the sunlight from the window in his face.

When Frank blinks open his eyes he sees none of those things. What he does see is a big expanse of black. There’s some light in the corner of his eyes, and when he moves his head a little bit, he can tell that he’s facing a light, but he’s pretty sure it’s not the window. 

“Hi, sorry, I’m back,” Gerard says, closing the door behind him as he walks up and lies back down next to Frank. It’s not as comfortable as it had been last time, but Frank welcomes him gladly anyway. He just wants to be close to Gerard. 

Frank turns himself around and he looks at the spot where he assumes Gerard’s head is, smiling lightly.

“Good morning,” Frank says.

“Oh yeah, right. Morning!” Gerard replies.

“If you just woke up, why does your breath smell like mint?” Frank asks.

“I may have taken a swig of mouthwash.”

Frank wishes he could roll his eyes, but he instead settles on burying his head in Gerard’s shoulder.

“Is that weird?” Gerard asks, “It wasn’t because I planned on sticking my tongue in your mouth, I mean, that was one of a few reasons. I just didn’t want you to think less of me because my breath was bad.”

“You’re just cute,” Frank says.

“Oh okay. Well cute is good. There are worse things than being cute.”

Frank hears his mother knock on the door a moment later, and he feels a little panicked that she might be angry until he hears her. “Frank, are either of you hungry? Do you want breakfast?”

Frank thinks, and he’s not sure if he’s hungry or not.

“I want coffee,” He groans to Gerard, but he’s not overly hungry. 

“Me too,” Gerard says. “Do you want to go out and get coffee? I’m buying.”

“I know you are, we have a deal, remember?” Frank says.

“Right, yeah.”

Frank turns his attention back to his mom and shouts back, “I think we’re good!”

"Okay. Are you going to lounge about or are you two going out?"

"We're gonna go out mom," Frank admits and he can practically hear the smile in her voice when she responds and walks away. Frank sighs and snuggles into Gerard some more. "I should probably wash and things like that."

"That's not fair, then I'll be the only one wearing my clothes from the day before and club scent."

"So you want me to wear the same thing, or we can swing by your place. Or you could go get ready at your place while I wash and get ready. Then that would mean you'd have to leave, and I don't want you to leave. You have to tie my shoes and get all bothered over me."

Gerard chuckles and places his hand on Frank's cheek, "Slow down. One plan at a time cutie."

“I’m just presenting you with all of the options, and telling you that if you leave now, even if it’s only for an hour, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Just for showering and changing my clothes?”

“Yes,” Frank nods, “precisely. If you leave I’ll be forced into detesting you, and you’ll make my list of people whose toes will not remain attached to their feet.”

“All just for going home to take a shower? I’ll let you get ready, and then we can swing by my place, okay?” Gerard asks, “Anything that means you won’t hate me forever.”

“I’ll probably hate you forever anyway, you know,” Frank says, and he reluctantly pulls himself up.

“I guessed as much. What do you want to do today then?”

“Right now, all I can focus on is coffee,” Frank says, “you stay there, okay? I’m gonna take a shower.”

“And just leave me here all by myself?” Gerard asks.

“You’ll live,” Frank shrugs, walking up to go to his dresser. He randomly grabs the first of each item of clothing, hoping that they match well enough.

“No I won’t, I’ll just stop breathing.”

“You’re very dramatic,” Frank replies.

“Or I just really like you.”

“Or you’re very dramatic and you really like me. Both of those things are likely.”

Gerard makes a sound, “You’re probably right then. Just don’t be long, I need my coffee.”

“All you care about is coffee,” Frank says dramatically, making his way to the door and closing it. He’s memorized this house enough to get by without his cane. He’s fine as long as his mother doesn’t leave things on the floor, which she wouldn’t knowing how much it messes with Frank.

“And you, I care about you too,” Gerard calls after him. Frank grins, blushing slightly, and walks to the bathroom. He’s glad that he doesn’t have to go through the kitchen to get there because he doesn’t want to face his mother right now. He’s not afraid of her, that’s not it, he’s just afraid of the conversation that would ensue of him trying to deny how much he adores Gerard. 

Everything about the shower is relaxing and Frank knows it's because of the night before. He's smiling to himself and taking care to clean everything he needs to while he thinks about the fact that Gerard's waiting for him in his bed. Gerard is in his bed, after their first official date, and sleeping together. Frank never thought he'd be doing any of this, but he is, and he loves it. Frank almost wants to start singing and that's pretty laughable to him.

He doesn't take too long inside of the shower, because each minute he's in there is a minute lost being next to Gerard. So he dresses quickly and realizes that he forgot to put on his deodorant and brush his teeth. He usually brushes his teeth first, but he's obviously not thinking too straight. Frank decides to skip on the deodorant and gets busy with brushing his teeth.

Frank goes back to his room and he hears Gerard humming to himself on the bed.

“You ready to go?” Gerard asks.

“Just hold on a sec,” Frank says finding his deodorant hurriedly before he puts it back. “Okay. Take me away, Gee.”

“Okay,” Gerard says, and Frank hears the bed moving as Gerard pulls himself to his feet. There’s footsteps followed by Gerard putting his arm in the same place as always, around his waist.

“Mikey’s going to be there, isn’t he?” Frank asks.

“Yep. And, in all probability, so will Brendon.”

“Great,” Frank says, “Well, let’s get this done sooner rather than later.”

Gerard chuckles and then he guides Frank out of his room. Frank sighs, and he can feel his mother’s eyes on the two of them.

“Have fun you two!” she calls after them.

“We will!” Gerard says back. Frank sometimes feels like the two of them have been plotting this all without him. This whole time, his own mothers been trying to set him up with Gerard. _Everyone’s_ been trying to set him up with Gerard, really. No one seems to not want them together, and Frank doesn’t know how that happened.

“I’ve never been to your house,” Frank notes.

“That’s because it’s kind of messy,” Gerard says, “You’re going to want to be careful, but I’ll help you.”

"Any reason for you to touch me huh?" Frank smiles and nudges Gerard with his shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm that transparent," Gerard chuckles and closes up his jacket while he opens the door. "Let's get going, Frankie."

"Of course," Frank takes his cane from Gerard's hand and begins walking out of the house.

Gerard closes the door and walks behind Frank until he catches up and puts his arm back around Frank.

"Let’s get you into the car. It's a little chillier today."

"Which is why coffee and snuggling with you would be ideal right now," Frank admits and Gerard just chuckles.

“You like me,” Gerard says in a singsong voice, and Frank scoffs, as Gerard opens his door. He slides in and waits until Gerard runs to the other side of the car to respond.

“Yes, Gerard. I like you. That’s kind of why we’re dating. I mean, that’s the point.”

“You don’t sound too sure of yourself there,” Gerard says.

“Well that’s because you tried to tease me for liking you, but that’s the whole point! Gerard, you’re a gigantic dork,” Frank tells him.

“Thank you,” Gerard says, starting the car.

Frank’s still kind of tired without his coffee. He doesn’t function well without some form of caffeine in his system, so most days he’s only half there if he hasn’t had coffee. Right now isn’t one of those days though, because he forces himself to stay completely conscious so that he can hear Gerard’s rather remarkable rendition of every song on the radio. He’s a little choppy in places, but he’s making up the lyrics well enough that Frank sometimes thinks he might’ve gotten them right. 

“Every goddamn time,” Frank shakes his head.

“What?” Gerard asks, turning the volume down a little bit for Frank to repeat himself.

“Nothing,” Frank shakes his head, “I just like the way you sing along even though you don’t know a fucking word.”

“It’s the effort that counts,” Gerard says, “and this just isn’t my day, I’m usually better than this.”

“I know,” Frank says, having become well acquainted with Gerard’s vast knowledge of the radio.

“We’re here,” Gerard says, reluctantly turning the music off, which would probably be a mercy to whoever wrote that song based on how Gerard butchered the lyrics.

“Lead the way,” Frank says. He’s almost impressed by how quickly Gerard manages to run around the car. He’s done it enough by now, and it’s adorable each time.

“Okay,” Gerard says, helping Frank up, and instantly letting his hand fall to Frank’s side. “It’s kind of slippery here, so just, hold onto me, okay?”

“Yep,” Frank says, “are there steps?”

“Not on the way to the door, but there are once we’re inside,” Gerard says.

“Great,” Frank groans, “You live on a different floor, don’t you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I just hate steps. They’re always different sizes, and there’s no regulation for how many there are. I just hate steps and all that they stand for.”

“That’s a pretty passionate opinion about stairs you have there,” Gerard says, guiding Frank up a front path of sorts which doesn’t feel overly slippery to him, but he can’t see around him so he’s not really the best judge. 

“You have no idea how hard they can be on me,” Frank says, “I have fallen down more flights of stairs than you would believe. Actually, let me correct myself, sorry, I have been pushed down many more flights of stairs than you would believe.”

“I would break the nose of anyone who pushed you down the stairs,” Gerard tells him.

“I’m not sure how much of a help that is now, given that all the people who used to push me down stairs live hundreds of miles away.”

“Well I hate them anyway,” Gerard says, reaching the front door. Frank knows that because they stop and he can hear Gerard messing with a ring of keys which are jingling against each other. There’s the sound of Gerard turning the door knob and then it opens, and Frank’s being rushed in, away from the cold. It is admittedly colder out today than it had been the last few days.

Frank’s met with a house that smells like Gerard very subtly. It’s not a bad smell, but it’s new. He’s not used to it, and he can tell he’s in a new place just by the way the air moves around him. The house breathes differently as well, just a different feeling to it.

Gerard tells him that the first floor is clean enough, but he’ll need more help upstairs. Frank expands his cane in front of him anyway, because he doesn’t quite trust Gerard to notice every obstacle. 

“Okay, so we’re going to have to go up the stairs now, sorry about that,” Gerard says.

“We’ve already established that I hate you,” Frank shrugs.

“And you’re cute,” Gerard says. “Okay so there’s, hang on I gotta count... there’s twelve steps.”

“Okay,” Frank says, and he lets his cane find the first one for him, and then sizes it up carefully. “Alright, I think I got it.”

“Okay, well we’ll go slowly to make sure you’re okay,” Gerard says.

“I’m not _that_ hopeless, I just hate steps because they’re sadistic bastards.”

“They’re inanimate objects,” Gerard reminds him.

“Sadistic bastards,” Frank corrects, and Gerard decides not to argue with him. Frank makes his way up the stairs slowly, and he’s quietly proud of himself on the landing at the top.

“Were you over exaggerating how much you hate steps or are you just extremely talented?” Gerard asks.

“I’m just talented.”

A voice that doesn’t belong to Gerard says, “Was that Frank?”

Frank is already predicting what’s about to happen when he hears a door open, and then the sound of Brendon and Mikey talking at the same time greets him.

“Gerard you actually stayed over at his house, oh my god!” Mikey is saying, while Brendon says something to the same extent that gets drowned out.

“We just fell asleep,” Gerard says.

“Yeah right, sure. After you did other things,” Brendon says.

“We did not!” Frank insists.

“They totally did,” Mikey says.

“We didn’t!” 

“Oh yeah? Then prove it,” Brendon says.

“How could I possibly prove that?”

“Exactly my point,” Brendon says.

“Well we didn’t,” Frank groans.

“I have to take a shower, I’m going to leave you with these two,” Gerard says, and Frank scowls when he feels Gerard take his hand away.

“No, don’t leave me with them!” Frank pleads. 

“Oh, we’re not that bad,” Mikey says, putting an arm around Frank, and trying to steer him somewhere while Frank does his best to protest without actually breaking his jaw.

"I would rather just stay in Gerard's room and hide away in his bed."

"I bet you would. What else would you like to do in Gerard's bed?" Brendon teases and Mikey just snorts.

"I think you should evaluate your life if you actually expect me to answer that if I did want to do more than that," Frank says sarcastically, as always.

"Okay, I don't want actual images or anything."

"I'm sure you'd really be missing out if we did any of the things I know you're thinking about. We'd give a great show."

"Okay, ew! That is my brother Frank."

"You don't seem to act like it when you're watching us make out like a little weirdo, incest is wrong on so many levels, but hey... if you get off on watching your brother make out with the most beautiful boy in our whole school, I won't be the one to judge you."

“Jeez Mikey, I never knew you were such a perv,” Brendon says.

“I am not!” Mikey tries to defend himself, but Frank just shrugs. He knows Gerard’s already run off so now he’s stuck with these two.

“So where is Gerard’s room then? Just out of curiosity,” Frank asks.

“Well it’s not going to do either of us much good to go there. He will kill me if I ever go into his room again. Something about not wanting me to find his secret porn stash or something.”

“I’m fairly sure that’s why you told Gerard not to snoop in _your_ room actually,” Brendon says, and Frank snorts. Brendon either has his back right now or he just really likes to pick on Mikey. Possibly both. Probably the latter.

“Shut up, Brendon,” Mikey says, “and the other reason is because you can’t see much of anything, can you, Frank? I mean, if you want to smell his dirty laundry, knock yourself out, but if not, you’re welcome in my room.”

“Not really the Way who I’d ideally have inviting me to their room,” Frank says, following Mikey’s voice anyway with his cane in front of him. The hallway is shaped kind of strangely, with a dramatic bend not too far from the staircase, and Frank’s also got his senses on to watch out for any debris that might be in his way. He’s somehow not surprised to learn that Gerard and Mikey are both messy. That just seems totally on character.

“So how’d he convince you to sleep with him?” Mikey asks.

“We did not... he just fell asleep. Again. That’s what happened. It was just like last time!”

“Mhm, sure buddy,” Brendon says.

“Why was he so eager to shower then?”

Frank just stands dumbfounded in what he assumes is Mikey’s room. “Because it’s a new day and he didn’t want to feel dirty! And we were out at a club last night with lots of sweaty people! You were there, I’m sure you wanted to shower after leaving too.”

“I still say they fucked,” Mikey says to Brendon.

“You two are unbelievable,” Frank exasperates.

“Yeah, so what’re you two going to do today then? Go to Gerard’s room and lock yourself away until tomorrow? Gross, I started thinking about it, ew,” Mikey says before making a gagging sound.

“We were going to get coffee as soon as we showered, thank you very much for asking,” Frank says.

“Oh, coffee. Brendon and I like coffee.”

“You two are not invited!” Frank insists.

“We never said we were. But who knows, a coffee shop is a public place where you could run into anybody. You just never know what two, or maybe four individuals might bump into you at a coffee shop.”

“You wouldn’t,” Frank says, shaking his head, but he’s fairly sure he can already hear Brendon getting out his phone and texting someone. He may have to kill both of them someday.

“I will slap you both in the face with your own arms that I tore off your bodies, just know that, okay,” Frank says.

“What I’m getting from that is that you’re into rough things, Frank. You like it rough, huh?”

“You’re disgusting,” Frank says.

“Ah yes, but I am your future brother in law, so you should be nice to me.”

“What does that make me?” Brendon asks, “Future... I don’t know, but whatever I am, I want it to come with a new T-shirt.”

“You’re an idiot,” Mikey says.

“I wish Gerard were a quicker shower taker,” Frank notes.

“So that you two can play some tonsil tennis?”

“Dude, who says tonsil tennis?”

“I just did,” Mikey defends himself, “is it outdated? I wasn’t informed of this. I don’t receive a monthly newsletter telling me what sayings are in and what’s out.”

“I’ve yet to be convinced he is not six years old,” Brendon says seriously to Frank.

“You’ve known me since I was, like seven Brendon,” Mikey tells him.

“Ah yes, but maybe you lied about your age when we first met. It could happen.”

“We met in class. We were in the same class. We are in the same year. Several years have passed us by, Brendon, it’s safe to say, I am not six.”

“That’s just what they want me to think,” Brendon replies.

“Who is they?” Frank asks.

“The evil clones who stole Mikey and replaced his brain with that of a toddlers.”

“Ah yes, because that’s a thing that can happen.”

“You’re my friend, you’re supposed to support me,” Brendon says.

“I’m not going to support your idiocy,” Mikey replies.

“You two bicker like an old married couple,” Frank says.

"Yeah," Mikey chuckles, "He wishes."

"Oh please, you know you'd want my lips if you were gay," Brendon makes a kissy face at Mikey and Mikey just rolls his eyes.

"Let's just be glad I'm not, yeah?"

"Whatever you say Mikes."

"Hey, one more thing Bren..."

"What is it?"

"If you ever assume that I want your lips again I will fucking murder you where you lay. Got it?"

"I think that's pretty clear."

"If only I could see. I'd kill to watch you murder him," Frank intervenes.

As if they forgot he was in the room for a moment both of the boys look at him. "Sorry for being rude and not offering you a seat. There's actually a bed right next to where you are. On your left side."

“You’re usually rude most days anyway, aren’t you?” Frank asks, taking a seat on the bed beside him.

“I resent that,” Mikey says.

“Good.”

“So did you have fun making out with my brother last night?”

“Yeah, actually. It was a lot of fun,” Frank says.

“If you don’t want to hear the answer Mikey, I would recommend not asking the question,” Brendon says when he makes a face.

“I can give you details too, if you want,” Frank says, “Like, your brother-”

“Please don’t,” Mikey says, “I don’t want to know the specifics.”

“Pete just texted me back and he says he would be happy to help bother Frank with us today,” Brendon announces.

“Oh great,” Frank groans, “Are you inviting Patrick too?”

“Of course I am! He doesn’t have to come but he has to be aware of the opportunity.”

“That seriously infringes on my personal space. Don’t you think I deserve a private life too?” Frank asks, “I mean, you know, he is my boyfriend.”

“Oh god, hearing him say it is gold.”

“You two are literally the most childish people I have ever met.”

“So what if we are? You made out with my brother,” Mikey says.

“I know that,” Frank says, “I was aware of that when said making out occurred. I don’t really care what you think to be completely honest with you.”

Frank hears the sound of the shower cutting off, unaware that he could hear it when it was going. He hopes Gerard will be quick for a few reasons. He wants to get away from Brendon and Mikey, he wants to be with Gerard and he wants his coffee. Mostly he wants to stop having this circular conversation with the two people whose only topic of conversation seems to be the nature of Frank’s relationship. It’s not like this is necessarily very unexpected, given that Mikey is a blood relation of Gerard, but right now he’s really wishing that the one guy who decided to attach himself to Frank wasn’t also the brother of one of his closer acquaintances. 

“Is your whole life built around making other people uncomfortable?” Frank asks.

“Yes. Brendon’s life is built around behaving like a stripper,” Mikey says.

“I do not behave... okay maybe a little bit. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Well there’s one reason to be glad for your blindness then, I don’t have to see Brendon attempt to strip,” Frank says.

“Psh, you should be so lucky,” Brendon says.

“Brendon, you’re so arrogant sometimes, I don’t even know why I put up with you anymore,” Mikey says.

“It’s because I have a car and you need me to schlep you around to various places. Without me, you’d be monstrously in debt to Gerard because he’d make you pay him for car rides,” Brendon explains.

“True. He prostitutes out his car.”

“I think a better term to use would be ‘car service’,” Frank says.

“Nope. Gerard prostitutes his car. Unless you’re Frank in which case he’d drive you to Australia if you asked,” Mikey says.

“You can’t get to Australia by car, dumbass.”

“You don’t think I know that? I was illustrating a point!” 

“It was a dumb point,” Brendon replies.

“Most of his points are dumb,” Gerard says, finally finishing up and Frank feels himself breathe out easier than he had a moment before. 

“You’re an asshole.”

“Thank you,” Gerard says, holding his hand out for Frank, which he can’t obviously see. Frank’s aware of it anyway, and grabs it, allowing Gerard to pull him up and hopefully take him far far away from here. Not that he doesn’t like Mikey, but he’s not really Frank’s ideal choice of company right now.

“You’re just going to run away? Just like that? I thought you liked us, Frank. You’ve hurt my feelings.”

“You’re an idiot if you think I don’t want to hurt your feelings. I strive for it actually.”

“Oh just go make out with your boyfriend,” Brendon says, “Leave me and Mikey here to drown in our own single misery.”

“Speak for yourself, you’re the one who’s single,” Mikey says.

“Your hand doesn’t count, Mikey.”

“Oh fuck off,” Mikey shouts back, and Frank can tell he threw something at Brendon based on the way that Brendon makes an angry noise in response.

“Let’s just leave them while they’re distracted,” Gerard says, tugging on Frank’s arm. He follows without needing any more persuasion.

If Frank hates going up stairs, than there isn’t a word for how much he dislikes going down. He’s found that you’re much more likely to fall when you’re going down, and it hurts a million times more if you do. Gerard goes in front of him though, seeming to read Franks mind, and this prevents Frank from accidentally tripping up and falling down the rest of the steps. It’s actually a lot easier with Gerard there.

“You know that they have every plan to follow us to the mall, right?” Frank asks.

“Yeah, somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.”

“Well we could probably scare them off if you kiss me.”

“Is that you giving me permission?” Gerard asks.

“I guess you could call it that,” Frank replies. Gerard pulls on his jacket before he’s taking Frank back outside. 

"I think I know just where to kiss you," Gerard says. 

"Yeah? Where do you have in mind?" Frank asks. 

"Our favorite spot," Gerard replies nonchalantly. 

"Which would happen to be...?" Frank feels Gerard slip his hand into Frank's and Frank smiles. He's glad it's cold cause that way he can blame his red cheeks on the air. 

"My car," Gerard says with a knowing smile on his face. "You're so cute." Gerard opens the car door and let's Frank inside. He closes the door quickly and rushes back around to get in on his side. Once he's inside he reaches over for Frank. 

"What do you mean I'm so cute?"

"I just love when you blush."

Frank turns a deeper shade of red, "You noticed that?"

"Yeah," Gerard whispers and Frank notices the change in his voice and breathing. 

Before he can say anything about it, Gerard kisses him as if he's been waiting to do that all day. Frank’s a go with the flow kind of person when it comes to kissing Gerard. He’s happy about it whenever Gerard decides he wants to kiss Frank, and he’s happy to kiss him back. He’s not necessarily as good as Gerard, not having as much practice, or being able to pick things up from watching other people kiss on TV and stuff, but he likes to think he’s not bad. Gerard’s never said otherwise. 

Gerard really likes him though, or at least, Frank’s pretty sure he does based on the number of times Gerard’s told him that. So, even if Frank’s a bad kisser, Gerard probably wouldn’t tell him.

Frank’s pretty used to being the one who stops the kiss, but right now he doesn’t want to. He’s got this thought in the back of his head that he doesn’t know where the windows in Gerard’s house are, so it’s always possible that Mikey and Brendon might be able to see them, but he’s hoping that’s not the case.

Gerard smells like shampoo, and Frank’s never gotten a better idea of what it smells like than he does right now. It’s kind of a potent smell, not bad or good in anyway, but he likes it. He likes knowing that it’s because Gerard’s head is the color of a fire truck that it smells like that.

“Sorry, Frankie,” Gerard says, like kissing Frank is something that needs to be apologized for. “It’s just that no one likes PDA.”

“No, it’s fine,” Frank says, feeling a little frazzled by the exchange.

“Yeah?” Gerard says, “It’s just that I really like kissing you. I really like knowing that you like me. I pushed probably way too hard to be in your life, and it’s nice knowing that it’s paid off some.”

“No, you didn’t push too hard. I’m just stubborn, and we both know that.”

“You’re also pretty cynical, but I like that about you. It was one of the first things that I liked about you.”

“Thank you? I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a little cynicism here and there. You need a glass half empty kind of person in your life,” Frank says.

“I don’t think you need to defend yourself. You’re perfect the way that you are,” Gerard says, starting the car and Frank’s got to look into long term cures for blushing. Gerard’s already started up singing to the radio a second after the engine starts. Frank’s falling in love with the sound of his voice.

“You could audition for a singing show,” Frank says, shaking his head at Gerard.

“No, I don’t have a tragic backstory. I mean, I am Mikey’s brother which is tragic enough as it is, but you only ever win those shows if you’re easy to sympathize with.”

“I’m sorry, _who’s_ the cynic here?” Frank asks.

“Oh whatever,” Gerard says, turning the music on louder. Gerard’s house is a lot closer to the mall than Frank’s is, so there’s almost no time for Gerard to even start serenading him before they’re parking.

“Coffee time!” 

Frank grins with him, waiting for Gerard to run around like always. He gets quite a bit of exercise just trying to get to Frank’s door before he can open it. It’s like he’s practicing to be a limo service. Mikey was right about him, Frank decides. Except it’s only Frank who he’d open the door for, which makes him feel both special and weird. Gerard’s just a strange person to be around for long amounts of time. Good strange.

“C’mon Frankie,” Gerard says, pulling him to his feet, “I need my coffee!”

“Yeah, alright,” Frank says, letting Gerard pull him through the parking lot into the mall entrance. Frank’s not sure how big it actually is, because he can’t see it, but it’s not a very huge mall. There’s not many stores, and Frank’s really only ever been in two of them, the Starbucks and the comic store. 

He likes the atmosphere of the comic store a little better, it smells like books, and it’s always a lot quieter than anywhere else. People don’t seem to spend that much time in it either, so he gets to talk with Gerard longer without being interrupted. They don’t have very many employees that Frank’s noticed, because he would have thought that being there on Gerard’s shift would be against the rules, but no one’s said anything about it. 

“You just want a regular coffee then?” Gerard asks, and Frank’s not sure how he got to be standing in the coffee shop when he’s sure a second ago, they had only just entered the mall. He probably just got distracted by his own thoughts. Sometimes it’s a lot harder to keep track of time when you can’t see it. He just has no basis for what time is supposed to feel like relative to what you’re doing. 

“Yeah,” Frank nods, wondering if he’s supposed to sit down or not. He can’t tell what seats are empty though, so he’d probably end up really creeping someone out or accidentally feeling someone up. He’s done that more times than he’d really care to admit, so he’ll just wait for Gerard. It’s nice having Gerard there to be his eyes for him. It's also just really nice having Gerard there because then it means he gets to spend time with him.

"That first sip is going to be heaven."

"I beg to differ," Frank says. 

"Why?" Gerard asks confusedly. 

"Because I do believe your heaven is standing right here and not being forced into a cup." 

Gerard smiles at Frank and pushes him a little. Frank giggles and that makes Gerard's smile increase in size. Frank is everything he's been looking for. A breath of fresh air and looking at him smiling back up in his direction is everything Gerard never wants to forget. Gerard will always remember this moment right here and many more to come. There’s something perfect in how simple it is.

"You're right. Coffee doesn't even begin to compare to how you make me feel."

"I almost want to ask you how I make you feel besides already knowing the answer."

"Why is that, Frankie?"

"Because I love to hear you tell me," Frank admits. 

"Yeah?" Gerard boldly brings Frank closer to him. Frank doesn't trust his voice so he just nods up at Gerard. "I'll remember that."

"Why don't you tell me right now?" Frank says and then his attention flies to the entrance when he hears familiar voices approaching. "Oh my Goooood." Frank whines and Gerard instantly wants to hit all of the boys; especially his brother. 

"I'm sorry, Frankie." 

"It's not your fault. I just need to know ahead of time next life that you have an annoying sibling."

"Will do."

"Heyyyyy," Mikey says to his brother with his hands in the air. 

"You're a jerk and this is why I would make you walk before letting you into my car," Gerard walks away to go get their coffees. 

"Oooooh! Someone’s upset," Pete says. 

"Of course he is. We're always causing distress to his little Frankie."

"Shut up, Brendon," Frank intervenes. 

“See! Distress,” Brendon says, as if proving a point.

“So, are we getting coffee then?” Pete asks, “Sounds kind of like a date to me. You going to make out later too?”

“It’s possible,” Frank says, groaning and trying to walk away from them, but he doesn’t know where to sit, or in what direction Gerard’s gone.

“Oh my god!” Pete says ecstatically, “so you really are dating then!”

“Why would I have lied to you?” Mikey asks.

“I don’t know, but it’s amazing to see it with my own eyes.”

“You have no idea how much I would give to see it with my own eyes too,” Frank says.

“Come on, Frank,” Gerard says, coming back and handing him a warm paper cup, which Frank gladly accepts. Hopefully getting a little bit of caffeine in his system will help him be able to put up with these guys. Frank’s honestly not sure if Patrick is with them, because he’s not really the teasing type, but it’s possible if Pete’s there. Patrick seems to cling somewhat to Pete, and Frank’s chalked that up to the fact that he’s pretty shy. 

“Are you here to lead me to the gates of hell?” Frank asks, “I think that’s the only place in the world where I’ll be able to go to escape these guys.”

“You signed up for this when you started to date my brother,” Mikey tells him.

Brendon adds, “I don’t know what you expected. We’re supposed to make fun of you, that’s our job as your not-friends-but-actually-are-your-friends-you-just-haven’t-owned-up-to-it-yet.”

“I didn’t know when I met Gerard that he was related to you,” Frank says, as Gerard’s hand on his shoulder guides him towards the corner of the coffee shop, where he’s fairly sure there is a table, that, with any luck, isn’t big enough to seat all of them.

“Now you do, and now you know that I’m not going to give it up until you two are tasting wedding cakes.”

“Really, that’s the only reason he’s pestering you,” Pete says, “Mikey just wants to make sure he’s not left out on the invite to try various wedding cakes. Any excuse to stuff his face with cake is one that he will gladly follow to the ends of the earth.”

“I don’t even know how you eat so much junk food and still have the body mass of a piece of spaghetti.”

“And a skull as thick as his dumb face would suggest,” Gerard says. Frank feels them come to a stop and he feels out for a chair, which Gerard pulls out to meet him. Frank’s pretty sure that this is the same table he sat at with the rest of them a few weeks ago, which means that there’s definitely enough room for all of them to crowd around it. Frank hopes that Gerard didn’t do that on purpose, because the last thing he wants is to entertain company.

Frank takes a spot next to Gerard, and he can tell from loud careless screeching of an old chair against a tile floor, that Pete’s definitely sitting across from them, and someone else is beside him. He’s not as good as identifying people as he is when it comes to Pete, because he, for some reason, has a knack for making everything louder than it has to be. Pete could find a way to make anything loud. He could make being a fulltime mime loud.

“You two gonna kiss or what?” Brendon asks, and Frank just scoffs, taking a sip of his coffee which is the perfect balance between way too bitter and a killer pick-me-up.

“Not when we have a bunch of voyeuristic pervs sitting across the table from us,” Gerard says.

“Oh my god, it’s so refreshing to see Frank with a boyfriend. Like, of course he’s dating Gerard. They’re perfect,” Pete notes.

“I will skin you alive if you say one more thing about us,” Frank warns.

“Violent and threatening as always. Gerard may be good for him, but even a boyfriend can’t take away his murderous inclinations.”

“Not much has changed.”

“No but look at him, he’s smiling more,” Mikey says, and Frank makes a well-targeted kick at him, which receives a small squeak in return that really _does_ make him smile.

“Typical. The two things in this world that make him smile are Gerard and inflicting pain.”

“Don’t forget pizza, you should see him scarf down a pizza,” Gerard says, and Frank pokes him in the side to tell him to shut up.

“Same,” Pete nods in a weird tone.

"So you understand my love for pizza then?" Frank asks, clearly directing his question to Pete. 

"I don't understand people who don't have a love for pizza," Pete says almost in disgust. 

"I know right? It's like a sin!" Frank pipes up. 

"It is a sin, my friend," Pete says. 

"Yes, yes," Frank says with a smile.

"Hey!" 

And there he is. Frank already knows.

"Hey Patrick," Frank says dryly. 

"No! I wasn't saying hey as in ‘hey’! How come Pete gets to call you 'my friend' and he doesn't get a snide remark?"

"It's simple. He loves pizza."

"Wait a minute," Brendon intervenes. 

"Yes Brendon?" Frank says while sighing. 

"You mean to tell me that all we have to do is genuinely love pizza and we can refer to you as 'my friend'?" Brendon asks. 

"Well... I don't know about that. You can't base a friendship off of pizza. Just because someone loves pizza as much as you do doesn't mean they won't whack you in the back of the head with the rolling pin after they finish flattening the dough," Frank says sarcastically and Gerard sputters on his coffee. He's starts laughing too hard and Frank starts to worry a little when he doesn't instantly stop coughing. 

Frank reaches over and feels for Gerard's back. When he's sure he has the correct spot he starts patting Gerard's back while everyone else is watching with raised brows. Everyone glances at each other to make sure the other is watching and then they all smile. 

"Are you okay?" Frank asks. 

"Yeah, I'm good. You're just hilarious at the wrong time. I was drinking my coffee," Gerard clears his throat one more time and then smiles over at Frank. "Thank you." Gerard kisses Frank's cheek and then realizes what he's done when the room roars with everyone's voices. "Oh calm down! It's just two people being boyfriends. Maybe you should all go set out to find someone instead of clinging to me and Frankie."

"I think this is more entertaining," Brendon says. 

"I'm just shocked," Pete says. "But congrats guys. Seriously."

Frank just smiles since he doesn't really know what to do or say with that. 

"If you guys want to give congrats you can all leave," Gerard says rather bluntly. 

"Ass," Mikey mutters and Gerard scowls at him. 

"Whatever Mikey. You guys have to leave us alone some time." 

"Yeah, I already told Frankie when," Mikey chuckles as if that'll be good enough for Gerard. 

"Now," Gerard says firmly. 

"Maybe we should go guys," Patrick says, just above a whisper.

“Patrick, ever the eternal party pooper,” Pete says, shaking his head.

“I, Frank and Gerard want us to go, and I’m sorry?” 

“Sorry to whom?” 

“Yes,” Patrick says, when he doesn’t have a good answer.

“See, the problem here is that, when you try to be too nice to everyone, someone always ends up realizing the transparency in the words that you say, especially when you have two opposing forces whom you’re trying to be kind to, and what we have here is a case of that. By saying sorry to both of us, you’re saying sorry to neither of us, because you’re caught in the middle of two different sides, and since it’s impossible to take both sides at the same time, you either take neither, or you’re lying about taking one. So, basically Patrick, you’re a bitch,” Mikey says.

“When did you swallow a sociology textbook?” Brendon asks him.

“I just thought it would be fun to see the look on Patrick’s face after I called him a bitch. It took a while to get there, but it was so worth it.”

“I’ll bet,” Frank sighs. 

“Oh, we should go before Frank starts guilt tripping us about whatever he can think of,” Brendon says. “And I mean that in a completely loving and supporting way, Frank. Also, I really like pizza, I just thought I should let you know.”

“He’s such a kiss ass,” Gerard whispers as the chairs start to move again and Frank grins back at him. 

“You two have fun,” Pete says, and Frank can tell he’s grinning stupidly at them.

“But not too much fun,” Mikey says.

“Go fuck yourself,” Gerard replies.

“Love you too, big bro,” Mikey says.

Gerard nods at him and then he rests his head on Frank’s shoulder, which makes him pretty happy. He doesn’t know where the others are, but he’s hoping that they’re headed out of the coffee shop now. Gerard and he will probably run into them sometime later, but whatever. At least they’re alone now. Well alone if you discount the multiple strangers who are also occupying the coffee shop. Frank’s decided not to count them though, because he doesn’t care, and it’s easier to pretend they’re not there when he can’t actually see them.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Gerard says.

“Oh alright. You go right ahead and do that.”

“I intend to,” Gerard says, and Frank grins before Gerard’s lips meet his, and honestly, Frank’s just really happy that this is his life right now. Annoying friends and all. Well, annoying not-friends. Who the hell is Frank kidding though? They can be his friends as long as he doesn’t say it out loud. Yeah, that works. His friends are annoying, but they _are_ his friends. And that’s okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're so sorry this took so long, but at least it's here now.


	27. By The Way Your Hands Were Shaking, Rather Waste Some Time With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can’t suppress my urge to make Scott Pilgrim jokes. Frank and Gerard are in lesbians with each other.

There’s a definite feeling like an amusement park ride around Frank most days, and he’s not even sure if it’s technically a roller coaster, or a broken ride that leads you to your ultimate peril. It’s kind of like a broken Ferris wheel to be honest. There’s a very slow incline, followed by a standstill where he stays, and then it goes back down again, just as steadily, but ultimately it feels quicker. Then it’s over and he’s back where he started. On the ground. Feeling kind of broken. Feeling kind of used. Feeling kind of torn up and pushed aside.

Life just seems to be going through a cycle of emotions he doesn’t know and doesn’t want.

As hard as he tries, and as much effort he puts into it, Frank’s found it very difficult to ever feel like things are going well. 

Frank wanted, hoped, for most of his life in the dark that finding someone who cares about him, who really really cares about him, not because they have to like his mother does, but because they want to, he thought that would be like a cure. He thought that the feelings of pure dread and depravation he feels about his life could all just go away if someone really cared about him. He’s a dreamer, and he knows he is, but it’s always seemed like the common story from books.

It’s always when they meet the love of their life when people’s lives stop being depressing. It’s all so sudden, and it’s all so fast, and Frank thought that maybe that could be real life. Maybe this was real, and maybe the movies weren’t lying for once.

But everyone’s always lying to Frank. They’re always trying to make him feel better by lying straight to his face. It’s almost like the fact that he’s blind makes them think he’s an idiot. They think, just because he can’t see with his eyes means that he can’t see straight through their lies. He does though, he sees right through them.

And that’s why, for the past month, the high he’s been riding with Gerard seems to be falling ever so slightly, daily going down, until he feels like he’s hit rock bottom.

It’s not Gerard though. It’s not him at all. Gerard is perfect. He’s making Frank happy, he really is, and Frank would rather completely have his eyes taken out of his skull than lose the guy, but, he just thought his life would be fixed when Gerard entered it. He believed too much in Hollywood, and now he’s having it come back to hit him in the face in the way that nothing seems to have really changed which he had thought would change. 

Frank smiles more often, sure, and his life is better, he knows it is, but that hasn’t stopped anything from feeling like a waste. It hasn’t pulled him up from the dangling thread he’s been holding to keep his sanity intact. The thing is that it’s hard to see the improvement when you’re caught in the middle of it all. When you look on as an outsider, it’s easier to see the change, but Frank’s on the inside, and he doesn’t have that perspective. So he knows he’s getting better, and that the days are brighter, but he doesn’t feel any different from day to day, because the change is too subtle.

The part that sucks is that, at the end of the day, Frank still falls asleep sad. He still wakes up into a world of dark. He still walks outside, feels the sun on his face, feels the cold winter air hit him like a train, and he still can’t even see the world around him. He can hear it all, and he can touch it all. He can smell things, feel things, sense them, but he can’t see them, and it hurts. 

It feels like he’s trying to thread a sewing needle but the end keeps splitting. It’s a constant reminder that he can’t do it. There’s just this urge, like a word on the tip of his tongue, and every time he blinks his eyes he’s trying to thread that needle, trying to get it to go through the head, try to just do it, and yet, every time he comes up short. Every goddamned time he closes his eyes, that needle is there, and every goddamned time he opens them, he’s failed once again.

The best way to describe it is like getting a failed test back. It’s like getting that math test that you studied for until four in the morning the day prior, and then getting it back to see that you’ve failed. Every time he opens his eyes, he gets that sensation. Every time he blinks, that’s what he feels. He can’t stop blinking though, because being blind doesn’t exempt him from the basic human function, he still hast to blink and every time, it doesn’t work. He’s still blind.

And Gerard is the best person Frank has ever met. He’s this light, almost like a beacon that Frank can actually see, actually make out in his sea of darkness. He can see Gerard and he sure as hell can _feel_ Gerard. Gerard has complete and utter faith in the fact that someday in the future Frank will be able to see again. He believes that so wholeheartedly that sometimes, Frank kids himself into thinking that Gerard might be right.

But it’s just like Hollywood. It’s just like a movie. Gerard tells him it can happen, and Frank believes it for a fraction of a second before the world comes tumbling back in on him to remind him that it’s just one big lie. Maybe Gerard believes it himself, but it is just one huge, gigantic lie. That’s when the Ferris wheel seems to jerk him downward and he finds himself on the ground again, chewed up and spit out.

Sometimes Frank just wants to run away from it all. He wants to get away, leave everything behind and just have peace. He’s not asking to see again, though that would be ideal, he just wants to get away from people. He wants to get away from people telling him this or that, or trying to make him feel better about that or this.

Frank kind of wants to stop everyone from talking. He wants people to stop telling him he’s not disabled, because he is and he knows he is. He wants people to stop telling him that he _is_ disabled because he feels like he’s better than a label, better than people who try to tell him he can’t do things because of his disability. He wants to stop people from telling him that he’s good at things for a blind guy, and for people to stop telling him he’s good at things for anybody, because he doesn’t want people putting him in a box of blind people, and he doesn’t want people to think he’s special for being good at things just because he’s blind. 

Frank just wants to be a cookie cutter. He wants to live in a house that looks like all the other houses, he wants to drive a car that looks like all the other cars, he wants to have a job that’s like all the other jobs and have a cubicle as small as all the other cubicles. He wants to hate the way he looks in the mirror the way all the people do, and he wants to judge people on a vapid scale by how attractive they are. He wants to be boring. 

He wants to date Gerard and tell him all the dumb things that other people tell their boyfriends, like he’s got pretty eyes and a nice smile. He wants to have friends who don’t feel obligated to walk him to and from class. He wants to be bullied for being a prick and not for being an easy target. He just wants to be a plain, normal, lifeless, over-stressed high school kid.

Frank is none of those things. He’s a sympathy case. He is and will always be the blind kid. Frank would rather be anything. Literally anything.

Gerard is fantastic and Frank would never deny that. He’s patient and he cares, and he sympathizes with Frank, but the cure Frank always hoped he’d be, Gerard can never really be. He can never fulfil that need in Frank. He’s a Band-Aid. He makes Frank feel better, but he’s not a cure. When Gerard is away is when Frank feels the full effect of that. Gerard has done his part in making the minutes of Frank’s life feel better, but he hasn’t made Frank’s life suddenly colorful. Frank’s had too much faith in movies. Too much faith in the idealism of a fairytale. 

But some days it’s kind of like the world is really in tune with Frank’s head. It’s like his thoughts are put into a projector and he’s living in a page made out of his own thoughts.

It’s like when he finds himself in the back of Gerard’s car, parked in front of a kids playground around eleven o’clock at night, totally just making out with the guy like there’s no tomorrow. On the one hand, yes, he’s very happy right now and there’s literally nothing that could unwind the glee in his chest, but on the other hand, the irony of the world just decides that it has to fill the happiness with enough gloom to balance it out, and that’s why it’s raining buckets down onto the car. 

It’s about a month after their first kiss, and Frank hasn’t gotten even the slightest bit tired of it yet. He can’t stand how much he likes to be near Gerard. It’s just insane the number of times Gerard is on his brain.

When you look at it one way, everything that can possibly be right in Frank’s world is right. He’s got Gerard there, kissing him like he’s the only supply of air that there is, with his hands all strewn into Frank’s hair, keeping him close, keeping him alert. But then there’s just this hammering rain, so loud it could be a literal hurricane out there, and it’s kind of intruding on the fact that Frank’s trying to have a moment of peace with Gerard. It maybe doesn’t count as just a moment, they’ve been here for about ten minutes, but still. There’s just too much irony in the way that the sky hates him this much. All he wants is one fucking day where he can have things go the way he wants, but the world, literally, decided to rain on his good time.

"Hey... hey..." Gerard breaks the kiss and looks at Frank. "You okay?"

"Yeah, it's just..."

"What? Do you want me to stop?" Gerard interrupts, worried that he may be applying too much pressure on Frank.

"No!" Frank shouts a little too loudly in the car. "God, no. It's just... the rain. It's too loud."

"Would it help if I turned the music on?"

"We could try that."

Frank finally opens his eyes for no reason, because it's not like he can actually see Gerard's ass as he leans forward to turn the key and mess about with the radio. After about a few moments Gerard finally finds a station without much static due to the rain. Gerard comes back again and Frank closes his eyes.

"Let me look at you for a second."

"I believe you already are."

"I meant with your eyes open," Gerard can see the way Frank has stiffened, but he opens his eyes anyway. "After all the times I've seen your eyes you'd think you'd be comfortable with me seeing them by now."

"After all the times of you seeing them you'd think you wouldn't want to anymore," Frank snaps back.

"I'd never tire of seeing your eyes, Frankie."

"Hmm, good to know," Frank reaches up and puts his hands in Gerard's hair. "Just kiss me."

Gerard smirks and Frank knows he does because he's very in tuned with Gerard’s actions by now. Frank lifts his head up and Gerard meets him the rest of the way. Their lips connect again and it's a little better than before. He can only hear the rain a bit and the music happens to be something Frank enjoys. Gerard smiles into the kiss when Frank moans low in his throat.

Their tongues move together and Gerard's fingers are in Frank's hair again. Frank lifts his leg and wraps it around Gerard's waist and Gerard moves one of his hands to Frank’s thigh to help him keep it up. Gerard digs his nails into Frank's thigh as he pushes into Frank's crotch. They both moan when their clothed cocks connect and Frank tugs on Gerard's hair. Gerard hisses as Frank tugs on his lip a little with his teeth. Frank's never been this hot before, but God does it feel good.

"Switch," Frank pants out.

"Huh?" Gerard speaks into Frank's neck as he licks and sucks there.

"Mmm, positions. Switch... position."

"Oh... oh, okay."

Gerard sits up and helps Frank up.

"Sit down so I can straddle you," Frank moves his hands up Gerard's arms until he gets to his shoulder and starts pushing him down.

"You know... for a virgin you can be very naughty," Gerard maneuvers himself on the seat until he's comfortable.

"I know. It's probably because I'm a Scorpio," Frank climbs into Gerard's lap. "We just kind of know sex." Frank smirks and Gerard bites his lip looking at him.

"Do you know how fucking sexy you are?"

Frank pretends to be thinking and then gives Gerard an impish smile.

"Yeah. This, what I assume to be, sexy guy, named Gerard, he tells me sometimes. Plus, I just kind of know."

Gerard chuckles and moves up to connect their lips again. Frank smirks into the kiss and Gerard moves his hands to Frank's hips. His lips begin to trail over Frank's jawline and down to his neck. Frank exposes his neck more and grinds his hips down into Gerard. Gerard lifts into him and Frank moans.

Frank moves his hands up Gerard again until they're in his hair. He keeps rocking his hips down and Gerard moves up, moaning and gripping Frank tightly. He moves his hands under Frank's shirt and pulls him into him more. Frank drops his head on Gerard's shoulder and Gerard moves his mouth to Frank's ear.

"Is this okay?" Gerard licks at Frank's earlobe and Frank shudders.

"God, yes."

Frank’s not sure what’s happening, but he likes it whatever it is. He’s not used to this kind of attention, it hasn’t gotten old or ever grown to be anything but surprising for all this time he’s known Gerard. It just seems to be so foreign to him, but he’s really into it.

He likes the way that Gerard’s sort of making this growling sound in the back of his throat, and the way his hands are so warm and strong around his waist. He’s finding cohesive thoughts hard to come up with as everything just seems to be stringing along together in some fanciful little production he doesn’t have the script for.

It’s like nothing he’s ever felt though. There’s this extreme warmth all over his body, so warm that he doesn’t even understand how he’s not on fire, but it’s not heat from the car or anything, it’s coming from him. It’s like he’s producing heat that parallels the sun, and it’s all over him, and it seems to be fueling him. He thinks it’s Gerard. Gerard’s somehow just making him feel this weird sensation like all he wants in the world is to just do everything with him. He wants all of it, the entire world, he wants it all, but he wants it with Gerard. There’s no other way to put it.

But then Frank’s feeling Gerard pushing back at him, Frank’s so into it that he’s dizzy when he feels himself being pushed away. It’s like the oxygen stopped going to his brain, and his whole head has been turned off. It’s now trying to reboot, because all he knows is that he’d had Gerard’s mouth all over his neck and now he’s looking down at Gerard from almost a foot away and he doesn’t know why that is. 

“Oh god, Frankie, I... I’m sorry, but no. No,” Gerard says, pushing Frank up and away, and Frank feels like a neglected puppy or the guy voted off the first episode of American Idol.

“Wha- what?” Frank asks as Gerard pushes him off and tries to relocate himself in a sitting position which is made hard by the fact that Frank’s got both his legs around him. He hurriedly tries to detach himself from Gerard completely, and is also really ready to get up and leave the car so that he can cry in one of the kiddie slides or something.

“God, sorry, just, calm down, Frankie.”

“Calm down? I’m calm, I just, what, why?” Frank asks, tripping over his words because of the uncertainty of what he’s supposed to say, or allowed to say. He doesn’t have a clue what’s going on, because he was literally grinding against the guy a second ago and now it feels like Gerard might as well have stabbed him in the stomach. 

“Frank, hey, Frank, okay, you’re not calm, you’re not breathing.”

“I’m breathing! What the fuck did I do?”

Gerard cringes when Frank raises his voice at him and tries not to take it to heart, because he acknowledges that he’s being confusing right now.

“You didn’t do anything! It’s just not the right time,” Gerard replies.

“Not the what? But, like, what’s wrong with me?” Frank asks sadly, moving over to the corner of the car, as far away from Gerard as he can get, where he can then put his knees out in front of him because he’s got a bit of a problem that he would really rather go away right now. 

It feels like the ultimate form of rejection. Frank’s mind is wandering to all the worst possible conclusions. Gerard likes him but would never sleep with him, because they’re not that close. Gerard finds him ugly and repulsive. Gerard still sees him as this little boy who’s too immature. Gerard doesn’t want to have sex with a blind guy. Gerard’s been pretending to like Frank this whole time, but Frank’s gone too far. Every horrible possibility runs through Frank’s head at a mile a minute and he’s afraid he’s going to explode.

“Frank,” Gerard says, and Frank knows he’s being serious because he never calls Frank ‘Frank.’ It’s almost weird hearing him say it by now, because, for the past nearly two months, he’s been Frankie. He’s gotten accustomed to it, and when it’s Gerard saying it, he likes it.

“What?” Frank asks, loudly, almost louder than the music. Gerard stirs across the seat from him, and Frank really wishes he could see the guy, but it’s too dark in the car to even make out his form. He can’t even see Gerard’s head. It’s just pitch black. He just hears Gerard moving around and then the music is abruptly stopped mid-word. Frank now feels the cold silence, even though it’s not quiet at all with the rain still pouring down on the car roof above them. It still feels quieter now without the static there to guide Frank’s thoughts.

“Listen, okay?” Gerard says, coming back to sit where he was, but Frank can tell he’s closer now, so he tries to scoot back more, but he’s come to a corner so there’s no more space. “Frank, I’m sorry!”

“What’d I do?” Frank asks, again, and even he can’t deny that he sounds a bit like a toddler having a temper tantrum. His own tone of voice makes him wish he could just crawl under a rock and live there for the next thirty years, but unfortunately he cannot. He just wants to get out of the car, but part of him is curious as to why the heck Gerard stopped whatever was about to happen, and he does not want to go out in the rain anyway.

“Nothing, Frank. Listen, you did nothing. The fact is that, I do not want to pressure you. Okay? I absolutely do not want to do this right now for a few reasons, okay? One, we’re in my car, this is not all that romantic, I’m not going to sleep with you in the back seat of a car, okay? Second, I’m really scared that you only want to do this because you think you should. Like, what I mean is that, I like you because you’re you Frank, I don’t expect to get into your pants. I don’t _expect_ that. Do I want to? Yes. But I don’t want you to think you have any obligation to do that at all. Even in the slightest. The last thing I want from you is for you to feel that pressure to give me something in return for the fact that I like you. Third, I know we’ve been dating for a little while now, but it really hasn’t been long enough in my books. I don’t want you to regret this especially, because, like, in a month, you might decide that you never liked me at all, which would be a bummer, but if that’s the case then so be it.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Frank says quietly, trying to digest all of Gerard’s words all at once. He’s like at least eighty percent sure that he doesn’t get what the fuck Gerard is saying in the slightest. Part of him sort of does, but most of him is just bitter because he really thought that hey, maybe now would be an okay time to lose his virginity. There’s no better time that he can think of really.

"How do you know that, Frank?" Gerard looks over at him.

"The same way you know everything, and because I know how I feel," Frank answers a bit bitterly.

"How you feel now can change Frank. It can always change," Gerard watches as the boy's head snaps in his direction.

"So why even take it this far? You're basically saying you have no faith in what we have."

"That's not what I'm saying-"

"It is! You're saying that how I feel will change. You're telling me that all the butterflies and warmth I feel around you aren’t real because it'll change a month from now? That... that I won't feel happiness anymore, or that you won't. Because this can go both ways. That’s sort of an obligatory fact, that if it goes one way, it’ll go the other."

"Frank-"

"No, shut up! I'm talking," Frank looks at Gerard in the darkness, not even caring that he can't see for once. "If I can stop feeling this way then you can too. If all of this is going to change... if I'm not going to want to spend every moment with you anymore... if I'm not going to want to smell your scent or touch your hair... if I'm not going to... to get weak whenever you touch me anymore then I guess it's a very good thing that I haven't told you that I love you."

Frank is expecting some sort of crashing sound of string instruments to start playing from the heavens, but that doesn’t seem to happen. It just sort of turns all quiet and the only thing to hear is the rain. There’s pouring, and somewhere off in the distance a rumbling of thunder, but apart from that it’s just quiet in the car and nothing else. 

"Except... I think you just... well, _did_ ," Gerard can't believe what he’s just heard.

"No... no, I..."

"You love me?" Gerard asks and his voice is shaking. It feels like he’s trying to stop himself from saying something, probably trying to stop himself from calling Frank stupid. He doesn’t like it. Frank hates it when people keep things from him. It’s unpleasant to know that someone doesn’t think you can handle being told the truth.

"Why does it matter? It'll all change in a month. Apparently. I mean, I don’t know why you think you have the right to say that," Frank spits. “Like why the fuck do you get to tell me how I’m going to feel about this? I just, I know what I know, and how I feel, and I am positive that this is not going to change, how I feel, it’s not gonna change. But you’re the fucking master of knowledge or something, way smarter than me, so what the fuck do I know?”

“God, shit, Frank, it won’t change! I didn’t know, and you’re mad at me, and I don’t want you to be, because, basically, I love you too, Frankie," Gerard moves closer to Frank.

Frank’s caught up on riding the wave of annoyance and anger at Gerard, so he doesn’t even really hear what the guy says. He doesn’t pay attention, doesn’t process it, just assumes Gerard’s saying something that’ll piss him off even more.

And then he stops. And he thinks. And he plays back what Gerard just said, and he feels his heart seem to slow down a little.

For a minute that feels like a life age, Frank can't believe his ears. He knows they're one of the strongest senses in his body, but he's sure he’s heard wrong. He's sure that he can't hear at all because he can't even hear the rain anymore. All he can hear is his heart beat and the sound of the seat groaning as Gerard gets closer. Next thing he feels is Gerard's lips on his.

He just sort of turns into a statue. He can’t move. Can’t think. Can’t even kiss back. He just feels like someone’s injected him with chalk. 

He searches around his head for what he’s supposed to do, but he can’t think of anything. He’s never said the L word before. Ever. Other than his mom, he has never ever said anything like that to anyone ever, and he’s certainly never had anyone say it to _him_. That just doesn’t happen.

Then again, none of this happens. He doesn’t kiss guys in the back of their car. He doesn’t try to have sex with guys in the back of their car either. He doesn’t do this. He’s just Frank. He’s just the little blind kid who wants to be a regular person, which includes having the ability to see what his fucking boyfriend actually looks like, and yet, he’s just sort of lolling through life right now.

And Gerard is kissing him. Gerard Way. His boyfriend. The guy who he literally just confessed his love to, he’s kissing Frank. 

At first it’s like this really soft kiss, nothing even remotely like that other one where they were basically trying to eat each other’s faces. This is like their first kiss almost. It’s really gentle and sweet and Frank’s falling in love with it. At that thought he has this crippling fear because he just told Gerard that same thing, but he said it to his face. He said that out loud. He admitted to something he didn’t even know to be true himself until he heard himself say it. Then he remembers that Gerard had said it back and he feels like giggling to himself.

Gerard loves him. Frank smiles widely when that sinks in, because he can’t even believe that this is possible. How is it possible for someone to love him? 

Frank actually does giggle, not even being able to stop himself, because this feeling he has right now, this feeling right in the middle of his stomach, is the closest he’s ever come to true happiness. He’s never felt this way before.

It’s raining buckets, he just got turned down by the guy he likes, he’s still as blind as he’ll ever be, and he’s got a six page paper due for World History in two days, but right now, he’s so happy. Gerard, the guy he’s in love with, loves him back. It’s not possible to be happier about anything.

“Why are you laughing?” Gerard asks, sounding concerned.

“You said you love me.”

“I-I know. I was there.”

“But I love you too.”

Gerard blinks at Frank confusedly, “I know. I was there for that too.”

“It’s just good. You know. Just really really good.”

“What is?”

“The fact that you love me.”

Gerard’s quiet for a minute, but it’s not the uncomfortable kind of silence. There’s just a moment of calm while he gathers what he’s about to say next.

"I get what you mean. You wanna know something?" Gerard asks.

Frank lays his head on Gerard's shoulder and nods. Gerard wraps his arms around Frank's waist and rests his chin on his head.

"I never expected you to love me. I mean, I knew I loved you, but I didn't know if you'd love me back. So I don't know everything."

"You do," Frank lifts his head to 'look' up at Gerard. "Because I just told you everything you need to know."

Gerard stops breathing and kisses Frank. Frank lets out a content sigh and smiles.

"Maybe I should get you home."

"Only if you promise you'll stay with me."

"Of course, I'd rather waste my time with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took too long to update, but I'm not going to apologize because we don't really owe you an apology for having other things going on in our lives. I don't mean that in a rude way, or to induce guilt, as we appreciate all of our readers, but I'd also like it stated that we do this with out free time and would respect it if you didn't pressure us into writing updates.


	28. It's Not Over Yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We’re back.

Frank sits there listening hard, because that's all he can do, to the loud sounds going around in the locker room. Everyone has left and then there's Frank stuck inside with Blake. He's tormenting him, making loud sounds, and trying to scare the shit out of Frank. Truth be told, it's working, but Frank can't go unless someone comes in and helps him. So far no one has come, but he knows someone will soon, because Gerard will know that something is up if he's too late coming outside. 

Gerard. Frank tries to focus on Gerard, the sound of his voice, and not the sound of Blake screaming obscenities at him. He tries to focus on the touch of Gerard's hand and not the touch of Blake pushing him into the lockers. Frank crumbles and tries to think about the sound of Gerard's loud heart beat when they're lying together and not the loud banging of his cane against the lockers from Blake's stupid hands. Frank knows after this he'll need to get a new cane and his mother isn't going to be happy about it at all. She's going to want to hang Blake from the small hoop in his ear, which Frank only knows he has because he's heard everyone talking about it in the gym. 

Insert Frank's sarcastic chuckle at him in the gymnasium and fast forward to the torment in the locker room that's going on right now. Blake hovers over Frank and Frank folds in on himself to block any hits that may come his way. 

"You think you're so cute now, because you have a boyfriend. You think you're king of the blind or some shit," Blake's voice gets closer and Frank can feel his breath on the back of his neck. It’s gross, having him so near. He wishes he would get the hell away from him, Blake just isn’t the kind of person he needs near him. Gerard is. He needs Gerard. 

"Well guess what..." Blake pauses for dramatic effect and if Frank could see he'd kick Blake's ass for being so corny. "...you're not."

Blake stands up swiftly and Frank can hear the wind blowing and before he can decipher what it's from he's hit with the weight of Blake's boot in his side. That was one hell of a powerful kick and Frank starts coughing uncontrollably. 

"What's wrong, huh? You can have hardcore fuck sessions with your boyfriend, but you can't take a hit?"

Then Frank hears it faintly. Footsteps running towards the locker room and if he wasn't in pain he'd probably start dancing. There's loud banging on the door and Frank hears his cane hit the floor and Blake's footsteps getting further away. Then he hears Blake unlocking the door, which Frank would have to say something about, because how the hell did he get the keys? That's when he hears it, Gerard's voice, the loudest sound even at a distance. 

"Where the hell is he?" Gerard asks in a very threatening voice. 

"You're all just in time. I was just leaving," Blake chuckles darkly and begins walking away. "Your boy may need a new cane."

"If he's hurt you're going to need a new body, because I will run you down with my car," Gerard spits and enters the locker room with Mikey and Brendon close behind him. 

"Ah man Frank," Mikey speaks out first. 

Frank doesn't say anything, this is like the first time they met, except now Gerard's there and he's embarrassed even more. Frank lifts his head slowly and looks around at nothing. He can barely see Gerard either, because the lighting inside of the locker room is like the lighting in a train station. Dimmer than the dreams of Frank seeing again. Still he knows where Gerard is just from the scent and the sound of his footsteps coming closer. 

Gerard is glad Frank can't see right now so he won't see the tears in his eyes. Also the shame at being a horrible protector. He's not supposed to let anyone hurt Frank, but how can he hold true to that if he's not with him in this school. Frank's curled up and his eyes are glistening with tears. He doesn't have on his glasses and his cane is beat to shit. 

The fact that Frank's eyes are focused in Gerard's direction only makes him feel even worse. As he bends down to help Frank up, Frank reaches out and starts touching him, trying to position him out, and then kind of leaps into his arms, almost knocking him over. Gerard holds Frank tightly and sighs into his hair.

"I'm sorry Frankie," Gerard whispers to him sweetly. He stands up and sits on the bench right next to them with Frank curled up in his lap. "Could you guys find his glasses and get his cane and clothes?"

"Of course," Brendon answers and they start searching for what they can't see. 

Frank's still in his gym clothes because he knows for a fact that Blake threw his gym bag somewhere high in the room so he couldn't get it. He was even asshole enough to narrate it for Frank. He figures now is a good time to tell Gerard that. 

"My c-c-clothes are high up, somewhere I can’t reach."

"Good thing Mikey and Brendon have abnormally long arms."

Frank can't help but chuckle and then he jumps at the loud thump he hears. 

"Sorry. It's just your bag falling. Do you have a body in here?" Mikey jokes. 

"I think that's a bag of toes," Brendon adds another joke. 

"Knowing how much Frank hates everyone I wouldn't put it past him," Gerard joins in and Frank chuckles again against his chest. "Did you guys get his glasses?"

"I hid those myself. The last thing I needed was for him to break them. They're behind the set of lockers near the gym door." 

Mikey nods unknowing to Frank and goes over to said lockers. He reaches his arm behind and grabs the glasses. He pulls them out and stands up. He takes them over to Gerard. 

"Here you go."

"Thanks bro. You guys can go now."

"Yeah, see you at home. See you tomorrow, Frank."

"Bye guys and thank you."

"Anytime,” Mikey calls, and with that they're out of the locker room. 

"How did you get in here?" Frank asks as he buries his face back into Gerard's chest. 

"They snuck me in. I had a bad feeling that you weren't taking long on purpose today."

"You were right," Frank sighs and sits up. He can’t even remember the last time he loitered in the locker room to avoid Gerard. That seems like a million years ago. How did he ever manage to deny it to himself that he likes the guy? Frank will never know.

"Can you please just help me get dressed and take me home so you can lay with me?" Frank looks up at Gerard. Gerard smiles down at him, and Frank knows he's smiling, because as nasty as it sounds Frank can hear the stretch of Gerard's lips thanks to his spit. Gerard looks into Frank's eyes a little longer before putting his glasses on his face for him. 

"Sure thing, Frankie," Gerard kisses Frank softly before he sits Frank down and starts taking his clothes from his bag.

“How do I know you’re not here just to see me undressing?” Frank sniffs, as Gerard hands him his shirt.

“I’ll turn my back,” Gerard says, and Frank is tempted to tell him that he doesn’t have to, but he decides against it. He’s not that good at flirting anyway. 

“Where would I be without you,” Frank smiles, grabbing the shirt that Gerard hands him and pulling his gym shirt over his head.

“Probably not in this mess with that asshole,” Gerard replies, handing Frank his jeans next over his shoulder. If he really cared he could just sneak a peek in one of the mirrors along the side of the wall, but it’s really not his place. If Frank doesn’t want him to be looking, Gerard respects that and won’t look.

“He’d hate me either way Gerard. I’m not angry at you.”

“ _I’m_ angry at me,” Gerard says.

“Gee,” Frank says solemnly, “if I didn’t have the best boyfriend in the world, he would make fun of me and torment me anyway. At least now I get the satisfaction of knowing that someone cute as fuck likes me.”

“But if I weren’t here-”

“I wouldn’t have anyone to talk to and feel safe with,” Frank says, finishing off his outfit but pulling on his shoes. He clears his throat, and waits for Gerard to turn around to tie them like he usually does. They’ve come up with a system. Gerard doesn’t even need to hear Frank say something before he’s already on the case. Frank’s painfully in love with him.

Gerard sighs, leaning down to grab the laces of the shoes in his hands, “I suppose there’s nothing I can do, is there? I mean, fuck I’d tell you to get away from me for your sake, but I don’t think that’d make Blake ease up on you any, and I’m really fucking selfish and I don’t want to let you go.”

“That’s not selfish,” Frank assures.

“It really is. I just, I like you so much, I don’t think I could let you go, even if it were for the better. I’m just too in love with the way you make me feel. You know?”

It’s nearly twenty minutes later when Frank finally gives Gerard an actual answer to what he’d said. It’s after they get in the car, and after Gerard sings along to some shitty radio song, and after Frank’s pulled off the shoes that Gerard tied for him, and it’s right about when he collapses onto his bed with Gerard in his wake that he finally figures out how to word his thoughts.

Gerard’s chest is pressed against Frank’s back, the way that he likes it the best. His arms are draped over Frank and Gerard’s head in the nook between his shoulders. It’s blissful. It’s all he wants in life. Just to be here, warm and safe, in Gerard’s arms.

“I don’t think I could ever let this go either. I thought, I’ve _thought_ and I still may think that I can, but I think I’ve come to a place where I realize that I can’t. Gee, this isn’t even about you and me anymore, it’s about the importance that we don’t let people who don’t believe in us win. I don’t want to let them win. I don’t want to let the hate that people have for me and you, for the fact that we’re dudes and I’m blind and you’re a gigantic dork, I don’t want to let the people who want us apart to get that sense of satisfaction. We’re better than that. You and I.”

“I know we are. We’re both fantastic. We’re a fucking hot couple. We’re the hottest couple around,” Gerard says.

“I wish I could agree,” Frank shrugs, “but I mean, we are at least the best couple around anyway. Mostly because of me, but you’re okay too.”

Gerard sticks his tongue out at Frank, somehow knowing that Frank will know it’s there even when he can’t see it. He can almost kind of read Frank’s mind most of the time. It’s not that Frank is transparent, it’s just that Gerard has memorized everything there is to know. He’s never fallen so hard or so fast for anyone, not even kind of, but this is Frank. He’s not like anyone else. He’s not like a single boy Gerard’s ever liked or dated. He’s Frank. He’s special beyond words.

Frank purses his lips, and says, “It means a lot to me that you’re still here. It means a lot to me that you still are in my life. That you care. No one’s ever cared about me that didn’t have an obligation to. I can name on one hand the people who do care even then. My mom, my grandparents, my weird aunt. That’s it.”

“A lot of people care about you, Frankie,” Gerard says. Frank turns around a little in Gerard’s arms to get a look at the blurry dot of his head, but it’s not there. He can’t see even that much. He knows that Gerard’s looking at him, looking directly at him, but he can’t see him.

“Really, that’s not true. I’m not saying that to be snotty, or to be rude, but a lot of people don’t care. Very few. You do. You could never know how much that means to me. That you care. It’s all I want. It’s all that matters now.”

“Frank, if there was ever a doubt in your mind that I didn’t care about you, than you’re not as smart as I thought you were.”

“No, but it’s just that, everyone seems to be fighting against us, you know? Like, the government, bullies, hate, that fucking dick Blake, and everything, and I know thatthe people who matter don’t think that. I know that my mom doesn’t, and neither does Mikey and I know those other guys aren’t against us, it’s just that... it’s always going to be louder. You know? Hate, it’ll always be louder. It always has been. It always will be. Hate fucking sucks, and I know it’s not outmatched, but, like I still feel it. I still get it all the time, and I have to remember why I’m still fighting it, fighting for the fact that I’m allowed to be fucking happy for once in my life, and sometimes it’s hard to remember. But then I remember you, and it’s like, maybe I am stronger than I think.”

“I think the thing that you need to differentiate between is the fact that being sensitive and being strong are too very different things. You can be both, because they are not exclusively mutual. Frank, you are very strong. I don’t know if I could wake up every day with the positive outlook that you have, because, sure you’re cynical, but I love that about you. That’s my favorite thing that there is about you, probably. Your cynicism is what keeps me breathing, and you have no idea how strong you are for making everyone around you happy just by being alive. I barely survived high school. I barely lived through the torment. I mean, hell, I was the fat gay kid who liked to draw, no one liked me, no one wanted to talk to me, I had maybe two friends, and all that time I let people’s words get to me. You can’t imagine how mortally terrified I was for Mikey. I didn’t want him to inherit what I got. I didn’t want him to be the weirdos younger brother, and I was fucking mortified that he would end up being just that.”

“That didn’t happen. He’s still, well, he’s still Mikey, and he’s still a complete idiot, but he’s not like, there’s no legacy in him of what you got, which by the way, if you give me the addresses of the people who did that, I can poke out their eyes with my cane. Put some of this town on an even playing field with me.”

“I wouldn’t let you do that,” Gerard says, and Frank can hear the laugh in his voice. He’s pretty sure he’s in love with Gerard’s voice. He loves the way that he forms sentences, like he never really puts what he says through a filter, he just sort of says it and doesn’t think about what he’s saying beforehand and it ends up being either a load of complete gibberish or right out of Shakespeare’s mouth. And the way that Frank can practically _hear_ his gestures. He always knows when Gerard’s trying to demonstrate a story with his hands, Frank’s pretty sure Gerard doesn’t even know himself that he does it. He’d probably apologize profusely if he realized that he’s been doing that while Frank can’t see it all this time, but he fucking loves it. He loves that Gerard is unabashedly himself.

Frank isn’t always that free with everything. He doesn’t get to be himself as much as he’d like to. He doesn’t get to be ostentatious and fill a room with his presence, because no one really wants to hear from the blind guy. Frank’s always known that what he is, what his disability means for him is that he is lesser. He’s not, not actually, but people view him in such a way. If he could see that, it’d kill him, the way that everyone looks down on him, but in some cases, the blindness is almost a gift. He doesn’t have the weight of having to see how evil people are. Somehow, only being able to hear about the heinous things people have done is better than having to actually see it. And also he doesn’t ever have to see pictures of botched plastic surgeries and if that’s not a blessing than he doesn’t know what is. 

“But still, Gerard, I, I think you mean more to me than you think you do,” Frank says.

“I think you have that backwards.”

“Well maybe,” Frank says, “maybe it’s the same for you and me, but it’s not like I see stars in your eyes or anything. Obviously that’s not the case, I can’t fucking see. It’s not like when you say things or hold me I have the meaning of life or anything, it’s just that, you make me feel safe. You make me feel comfortable, and warm, and at home. I think that’s all I could ever ask for. I can talk to you. That’s something I’ve never had.”

“Oh come on, you’ve had plenty of people to talk to,” Gerard says, and Frank shakes his head, because obviously Gerard doesn’t get his meaning.

“No, I mean, I can talk to you. Like for real. You’re the only person, the _only_ person, who I can _talk_ to. I can talk to my mom, sure, or Brendon, or Pete, or Patrick, or Mikey, or that nice office secretary at school, but I can’t, talk to them for real. With you I can. I don’t feel scared of saying things to you, of being honest to you. Like, I’ve never flirted with anyone Gerard.”

“Oh really?” Gerard snorts and Frank elbows him in the ribs, before he laughs even harder and Frank feels Gerard’s head fall onto his shoulder, and he can feel him laughing to. And maybe he smiles a little to himself, but Gerard doesn’t need to know that. 

“No, I mean, you’re an asshole, but before you I couldn’t have been that comfortable with myself to have done that.”

“What the hell do you think flirting is anyway?” Gerard says.

“You’re an ass.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. You’re cute.”

“I know I am,” Frank pouts, and he can feel Gerard staring at him and he really wishes he knew how Gerard looks at him. There’s two things he wants more than anything, and that’s the ability to see what Gerard looks like, and the ability to know how he looks at Frank. Does he look at Frank like he’s the most beautiful pizza or like his mom used to when he remembered to say please and thank you as a kid, or does Gerard look at him like he’s a gigantic stack of cash, or is Frank exaggerating the way that those things looked? If he could see him, he’d probably look at Gerard like he’s the most beautiful person in the world, but he doesn’t really need eyes to know that. Gerard is fucking gorgeous, blindness or no blindness, the dude could stop a train in its tracks. 

“Frank, I’m, fuck, I’m an adult. I’m old.”

“You’re 21.”

“I’m so old!” Gerard groans, and Frank would pay obscene amounts of money just to roll his eyes once, just this fucking once. He would pay a fortune for it.

“You’re barely even an adult, shut up,” Frank replies.

“Whatever. The point is that I am an old old old, aging man. I’m supposed to be full of wisdom. I am not supposed to be in love with a guy who’d never heard of Daredevil before.”

“You’re still hanging that over me?”

“Daredevil, Frank. Fucking Daredevil. He’s one of the best superheroes there is. He’s so fucking cool, he’s, like a staple of Marvel.”

“He really isn’t,” Frank shakes his head, favoring more iconic superheroes, like The Incredible Hulk, or Wolverine, or Spiderman at least, but Daredevil? He’s cool and all, and he likes hearing Gerard reading about him, but it’s not like he’s Batman, but then again, Frank is biased. 

“But still, like I’m not supposed to be this head over heels, or anything, because I’m too old for that. I’m too old to be wanting to run away with you and to think that I’m going to love you forever, because, really, you don’t make those decisions after only a few months. I’m not saying I’m wrong, it’s just so cliché. Fuck, every chick flick ever, they fall in love over the course of like four days and I don’t buy it. I mean, no one buys that. No one actually believes they’re going to be together in the end, but at the same time, we’re all romantics and we like to believe that maybe they do stay together. But I’m old, I’m supposed to see past that. But I look at you and I see the guy who I want to come home to and talk to. I think that’s what people neglect to notice about relationships is that, mainly, it’s about finding someone who you’re never going to get tired of listening to.”

“Probably a good thing you’ve got me under your spell then, because you talk way too fucking much.”

“I... can’t argue that,” Gerard says. “Fuck, we’re such idiots. Fools in love.”

“But we’re cute fools in love.”

“You say that, and you literally have no idea how right you are about you’re cuteness.”

Frank makes a face, “I believe it’s actually cuteitude.” 

Frank thinks, every single fucking time, that he’s going to eventually get used to hearing Gerard laugh like that, giggle like a little girl, and he’s proven wrong every time. Every single time. Whenever he hears that little laugh, it’s like someone is injecting him with life. He literally feels alive hearing that stupid redhead laugh. 

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Frank shakes his head.

“Is that a good thing?”

“It’s the best thing, are you kidding me? You’re such an idiot, I love it.”

“I love you, dumbass,” Gerard says and Frank smiles, because he doesn’t know how not to. It’s like when someone tickles you. You can’t help yourself from laughing. He literally can’t prevent the smile any more than he can prevent himself from pumping blood.

“Me too,” Frank says, “I mean, that I love myself as well, I wasn’t saying it back.”

“Shut up, you little fucker,” Gerard says before he’s leaning over, and that’s another thing he’s never going to get used to. Frank’s always on the edge of his feet. And it’s not like kissing Gerard gives him this overwhelming sensation of oneness with the universe or some shit, it’s just that it makes him feel giddy. It makes his heart stutter a little bit, and his skin prickle in all the right ways. It’s just good, and perfect, and he never wants to kiss anyone else. Never wants to have anyone else ever erase him kissing Gerard either. He wants everyone in the entire world to know whose Gerard is. 

“You know, I seriously would run Blake over with my car if you asked me to,” Gerard says.

Frank smirks, and shakes his head, “I’d probably say yes if it didn’t imply that our relationship would have to take place on either side of a prison.”

“I guess that does sort of drive a stake in things, doesn’t it? That’s a shame. Damn laws,” Gerard replies, and frowns, “but fuck that guy. Like seriously, I so wanted to punch him in the face, but there’s less satisfaction in giving him a huge shiner if you can’t see it. But kicking him in the balls might do it. Might take his voice up a few octaves.”

“You’re a rather violent problem solver.”

“Some problems necessitate the use of violence. Dickheads being shitty to my boyfriend are a prime example of this.”

“You’re, ugh, I don’t know why I like you,” Frank says smiling and he can hear Gerard humph, and it makes him grin even wider, because that will never not be cute.

“It’s because I have a great sense of humor, and I am the best person to talk to, and I am a bitchin’ hugger.”

“One of those things is true,” Frank says.

“Which one?”

“You’ll never know,” Frank replies.

“Option D then,” Gerard says, “all of the above.”

“Not really what I was imagining Option D to be, if I’m being honest,” Frank says.

“Well that’s because you’re a teenager with a dirty dirty mind.”

“Maybe your mind is just too clean.”

“It sure as hell is not clean, I’ll have you know, I’m just not vocal about it, that’s all,” Gerard says. 

“You’re so infuriating,” Frank groans, “I mean seriously. At every turn, you are literally incapable of not being adorable. It’s kind of annoying. You’re actually perfect. Like actually.”

“I’m not perfect, I’m messy, and I have clammy hands, and oddly shaped toes, and I used to be somewhat addicted to trashy daytime talk shows. You on the other hand-”

“Definitely not perfect. I can’t even see.”

“You’re perfect whatever way you are,” Gerard says, “blind or not blind, you’re perfect. And you have excellent taste in guys.”

Frank chuckles, and he buries his head further into Gerard when he hears the sound of the front door, telling him that his moms home. She may not take to kindly to what Blake did, but honestly Frank’s not entirely sure if he looks like he got attacked or not. He knows he’s got a bitch of an ache in his side where he’s probably going to have a nasty bruise, but he should be able to hide that from her. Hopefully that’s all there is.

“Just in case you were wondering, you are worth it,” Frank says.

“Worth what?”

“Blake. He said something about me thinking I’m better now that I have a boyfriend, and you are worth it. You will always be worth it.”

“The more I hear about that kid the more I want to... cut off his toes,” Gerard says, after hesitating. Frank’s never going to get a moment of peace where he doesn’t fall even more in love with Gerard, and maybe that’s okay. He kind of likes it that way actually. He misses Gerard when they’re in the same room, and he could live off of a relationship of cuddling the fuck out of him for the rest of his life, and that’s okay. He thinks he’s content with that. 

Frank is so unbelievably glad this loser chatted him up in that stupid mall cafeteria. He’s so glad that all of this has happened, as reluctant and scared of it as he may have been. He hates that it didn’t happen sooner. He’s almost grateful that all the things that had to happen to lead him to Gerard did happen. He wouldn’t have met Gerard if he’d never become blind. Maybe that’s okay. Maybe the guy is right and he is going to see someday. Frank’s not sure if that matters. He wants to see, but he’s used to this. It’s not as hard as it used to be. He’s still scared of the future, but the future is a little nicer sounding if Gerard’s going to be in it.

“I knew it,” Frank says, “I really fucking couldn’t give this up. Not for anything, not because of anyone. This is just too special.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so to sum everything up, we've had a lot of pressure from hate concerning this fic. In it's short lifespan we began to get a lot of rudeness that had, at one point, made it impossible to continue writing it while staying sane. The pressure had created completely unneeded drama that none of us wanted, and basically what happened was that a very very small minority of readers were being incredibly rude to us about this fic and we, most specifically me, Helena, couldn't put up with it anymore, so we gave up. This fic was officially given up on for all of about a month, but probably closer to two, until we came to the conclusion that this fic is honestly just too good to be abandoned like that. 
> 
> So, we're back. We're going to be taking it easy this time around, but we are going to try to give this fic what it deserves. I know that I've really missed it, and I have felt guilty about taking it away from you guys, and it's a relief to be writing it again, and hopefully with the break we took we'll have weeded out the people who were rude to us in the first place. What this huge authors note is meant to get at is that I am very thankful of every single one of our readers, even the mean ones if I'm being honest, and I have felt awful about letting a minority get in the way of the fact that the rest of you don't deserve to have this fic taken away from you. I love this fic, and I love you guys and I'm sorry that many of you have had to witness all this shitty drama, but words cannot describe how happy I am to get to give you this fic again. Thank you for hanging in there.


	29. Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the parents.

Gerard lays in bed looking down at his sleeping boyfriend. He didn't have to work this morning so he decided to stay over with Frank. They talked until one in the morning when Frank passed out cuddled into Gerard's chest. He's still lying that way and Gerard doesn't want that to end. He could stay this way forever. 

These past months he's spent with Frank have been the best months of his life. He thinks back to all the times he thought he was happy and realizes now that that was never really the case. He was always content with where he was or who he was dating, but never happy. He knows that now, because Frank has shown him just what happiness is, and he's still continuing to do that. Gerard can honestly say he's never felt the way he does when he's with Frank with anyone in the past. 

After dating someone for a while you get used to them, and you just start to take your time with them for granted, but that hasn't happened between them. Gerard still gets butterflies when he sees Frank. He still spends every waking moment thinking about him and when he sleeps it's usually Frank who occupies his dreams. He's never wanted to be around someone every second of the day before in his life. He doesn't think he'll ever stop feeling that way about Frank either. 

Gerard knows Frank feels the same way too. He can tell by the way Frank smiles at him. It also helps that Frank clings to him most of the time that they're together and that makes Gerard happy. When Gerard has to leave, Frank always looks like he's losing his best friend and that makes Gerard feel very special. He can feel the love that Frank has for him radiating off of him, and it's something he adores. 

Gerard knows what happiness is because of Frank. Happiness is smiling even though things aren't always what they should be. Happiness is waking up with your arms around your perfect boyfriend and never being tired of watching him sleep. Happiness is having nothing at all to do and still being able to laugh with the person you're with. Happiness is having nothing to say, but still hearing everything the person you love wants to say with your heart. 

Happiness is Frank and Gerard. 

That's why today Gerard has decided that when Frank wakes he's going to ask him if he can he take Frank to meet his parents. It's long overdue and he thinks they should know the source of his happiness. They can have lunch with them and talk about any and everything. Gerard can see it now and yet it hurts his heart that Frank can't. Still that doesn't mean he's not going to make Frank feel it. 

Frank stirs a little and he's aware that it's morning or sometime around it. He can feel the warmth of a body next to him and he smiles. He knows it’s his amazing comic boy that's holding him securely in his arms. Frank lifts his head from Gerard's chest and yawns adorably. Like a puppy.

"Morning sleepyhead."

Frank smiles and pushes his head back into Gerard's chest. He mumbles into it and Gerard laughs. 

"I can't understand you baby boy."

Frank grunts and pulls his head back a little. 

"I said, 'morning lover'."

Gerard smiles and kisses Frank's forehead. 

"How long have you been watching me sleep?" Frank asks. It's become a normal thing for Gerard to wake up earlier than Frank whenever they nap or when he stays over and watch him sleep. 

"I'd say about half an hour."

"Don't you ever get tired of watching me?"

"You shouldn't be so insensitive to what you just said. Of course I don't. You don't have the luxury of watching me sleep and if that luxury was ever taken away from me I don't know what I would do. I would watch you sleep for the rest of my life, because you're beautiful."

“You’re probably right,” Frank says, yawning slowly, “I am beautiful.”

“So I had an idea,” Gerard says.

“And what idea is that?” Frank asks him.

“You’ve never met my parents.”

Frank’s not sure how he’s supposed to react to that, because it’s true. He’s not good around adults most of the time, so he likes to avoid them. Really, he’s not good around anyone of any age, he’s not bad with children, but that’s because they’re easy. Adults are harder to please. They judge more, and it’s harder to know precisely how to deal with them. Frank would rather just pretend they don’t exist and carry on throughout his day without having to worry about people who have the power to control his life.

“Yeah?”

“I think you should meet them. Well, actually, if we’re being frank-”

“Very funny,” Frank says, shaking his head, too groggy from sleep to have to deal with Gerard making bad jokes. 

“Thank you, but honestly, I think I want them to meet _you_ , not the other way around.”

“Well they kind of go hand in hand,” Frank says.

“You know what I mean.”

“Why would they care about meeting me?” Frank asks. “I mean my mom loves you, but I think that’s mostly because you’re the only person who’s ever made an effort.”

“Not really,” Gerard says, “Your friends, excuse me, not friends, have made an effort, I’m just the only one who wants to stick a tongue in your mouth.”

“It sounds kind of crude when you put it that way.”

“I just think you should meet them,” Gerard says.

Frank shrugs, “Well they can’t be too bad if they raised you. But then again, there’s always the fact that Mikey exists, so they can still be bad.”

“I don’t even know how we’re related, I got all the good genes, and he got whatever the hell it is that he got.” 

“Is Mikey the pretty one?” 

“I’ll have you know, I’m exceptionally pretty,” Gerard says.

“Sure you are,” Frank says, grinning. Now, Frank has no real idea what the two of them look like. He did manage to convince Mikey to let him feel his face once, and Frank would never admit it, but his face feels very similar to Gerard’s, that can be chalked up to the fact that they are brothers, but there’s no real way for him to tell who’s the attractive brother. Frank likes to think it’s Gerard, but he has no real clue. 

“Should you really be dissing me?” Gerard asks. “I mean, I’m the one who holds the power to read Daredevil to you.”

“You’ve got me there,” Frank says. “No one else I know could manage to make a fifteen page comic last an hour and a half.”

“Okay, it’s because you’re always interrupting me, and because I have to describe what’s on each page. I thought you liked-”

“You know I’m joking, right?” 

“Yeah, sorry,” Gerard says, and he feels Frank start to move around, but he doesn’t want him to go anywhere, Frank provides the perfect amount of body heat, and despite the fact that he is mostly a lump, he’s fairly good at cuddling. But he’s always the little spoon, and this is actually okay with Gerard. 

“We don’t have to get up do we?” Frank asks.

“Eventually, yes.”

“I don’t wanna,” Frank mumbles, “I’m gonna stay here forever.”

“I don’t think that would really work,” Gerard says. “I mean, I have to go to work eventually, and you have school, and there’s the whole business of eating, and bathroom breaks, and what not.”

“Don’t ruin my dream with your logic!” Frank says. “But about your parents, how much do they know about me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, do they know that I’m, like, visually fucked?”

“They don’t,” Gerard says, “It never seemed like important information to tell them. But maybe refrain from using that term.”

“Are you saying parents don’t like the term visually fucked? I’m going to have to rethink my entire vocabulary.”

"They're a little like your mother when it comes to cursing. You can get away with a curse word or two, but they won't allow you to have it consume your whole vocabulary in front of them."

Frank laughs and stretches. "Well maybe I should just keep my mouth shut." 

Gerard shakes his head and puts it into Frank's neck. 

"I don't ever want you to do that."

"It sounds like that's for your own personal pleasure."

"It sounds like you _do_ need to close your mouth."

Gerard lifts his head and covers Frank's lips with his. It's a sweet good morning kiss with no tongue, because Frank doesn't go for that without teeth brushing before. 

"Mmm, I love waking up to you."

"Me too baby," Gerard lays his head back in the crook of Frank's neck. 

"I can't believe you didn't tell them that I'm visually fucked."

"Are we still on that?"

"We were never off it. We just kind of took a break from talking about it. Like a commercial break. Now that it's over we can get back to our regularly scheduled program. How could you not tell them?"

"I told you, it's not an important factor. They won't think it is either."

"I think it's very important that I can't see."

"You know what I mean, Frankie. It doesn't define who you are so I don't need to tell them about it when speaking about you. They'll know when they see you."

“God, they’re gonna be like you!” Frank says, laughing, “You remember. God, you had no idea. You thought I was a cynical prick who hated art and you had no idea.”

“Okay, you were indeed being a prick, but I think they’ll figure it out quicker than I did. I’m still kind of not over you tricking me like that, you know.”

“It was funny,” Frank says, grinning. “You were so clueless. I couldn’t believe you were that oblivious. I mean, hello, it was kind of obvious.”

“I wasn’t expecting it though!” Gerard says, “Ugh, fine. It was funny, whatever.”

“It was,” Frank shrugs, “but fine. They don’t know, what else have you not told them about me? Do they know about my obscenely good looks, and fantastic kissing skills?”

“Maybe we can leave that second part out, but I think I’ve made it pretty clear to them, and everyone else I know that I think you’re gorgeous.”

“Oh so you’ll tell them I’m a stud muffin, but when it comes to the eyesight you’re all quiet?”

“Did you just say stud muffin?”

“Well, yes.” 

Gerard says, “The fact that you’re gorgeous seems more important to me. I mean, I’d still like you if you weren’t but it sure is an added benefit.” 

Frank shakes his head, “you’re so, gah.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Gerard says, and he frowns as Frank starts to pull himself out of bed. He tries to latch onto Frank to keep him there, but it doesn’t work, so he finds himself in the cold space where Frank was a minute ago, with a frown on his face.

“What does one wear when meeting his boyfriend’s parents?” Frank asks, and Gerard knows he’s going to have to get up to help Frank pick something out. It’s not as hard to convince himself to move now that Frank’s no longer there.

“Nothing overly fancy,” Gerard shrugs. “Just clean. Hell, as long as it’s clean, you’ll already be dressed better than me.”

“That’s because I like to look like I’m not a homeless person.”

“I don’t look like a homeless person!” 

“Again, I’m joking,” Frank says, “wow, your joke detecting skills are very muffled in the morning aren’t they?”

“Sorry,” Gerard shrugs, and he starts looking through Frank’s drawer to find the least objectionable outfit. He grabs a pair of plain black jeans, and the first shirt he finds and hands them both to Frank. 

“I gotta shower,” Frank says, “do you need to shower?”

“Probably,” Gerard says, “but I’m not growing mold, so it can wait.”

“That’s the most unattractive thing you could think to say, isn’t it?” Frank asks, “Just go shower, I’ll go eat breakfast.” 

“You sure?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’ll go after you,” Frank says, “I’m starving anyway.”

Gerard smiles and opens Frank's door. "Okay. See you in a bit."

Frank walks out the room, knowing his house perfectly well now, and waves Gerard off. "Yeah yeah."

He moves down the hallway and into the kitchen. He hears his mom moving about before he even enters. 

"Morning."

"Morning mom."

"Want some breakfast? I'm making cereal. I can whip you up a bowl."

"I really don't care at this point. I'm just hungry."

"I think you care. You wouldn't want me serving you a lion would you?"

"Mother..."

"Right," she laughs and pulls down a bowl for Frank. "So what are you boys getting up to today?"

"He's taking me to meet his parents."

"Whoa! Big step, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Frank listens to the clattering of the spoons hitting the bowls and tries not to think of how afraid he is to meet them. 

He doesn't know what to expect from them, but their children aren't judgmental, so they have to be good people, right? Besides, Frank trusts Gerard enough not to put him in a situation where he receives hate or ignorance for his lack of vision.

Frank’s still nervous though. He’s never met a boyfriends parents. He’s never had a boyfriend, so he’s never had to meet their parents. Honestly, Frank hasn’t even been around someone’s parents that aren’t his own in a really long time. Probably since around the time he went blind. It’s been a really long time. He’s never really had any friends though, so he never had to meet a friends parents. Frank’s all wound up over this. He doesn’t know what they’ll be like. 

Still, Gerard and Mikey are pretty great so they can’t be too bad. They know about him dating Gerard, which means they know Gerard’s gay, so he won’t have to deal with any issue there, hopefully, but what’ll they think when Gerard brings him home and he can’t even see? How do parents feel if their kid is dating a blind guy?

“They’ll love you, you know,” his mom says, and Frank wonders if she was reading his mind. 

“How do you know?” 

“Because I raised you well, and I know you’re good.”

“Yeah, but I can’t see! Would you want your son to date a blind guy?” Frank asks.

“Why would there be a problem in that?” she asks.

“Well, there’s a lot of problems that they might find in that. I’m kind of a lug, I can’t do much, I’m pretty codependent on other people, I can barely do anything right by myself, and I’m a really annoying and needy bastard.”

“You’re only a few of those things,” she jokes, setting a bowl down in front of Frank, and putting the spoon right beside it. Frank’s still not a fan of cereal, but he really is hungry, so he’s not going to bitch about it.

“Which ones?” Frank asks with a huff. He hears the sound of the shower starting and sighs, because thinking about Gerard only makes him realize again the inevitability that he’s got to meet the guys parents. Really, he knew that this was coming, it had to happen eventually. He shouldn’t be this nervous, but he is. 

“Frank, Gerard had to meet me, and he probably was just as anxious about it, but he did it. You can do it too,” she says.

“It’s different.”

“Yeah, it is different. I’m ten times harder to please than any other parent.”

“You haven’t met them though, what if they’re worse?” Frank asks.

“Trust me, I’m a lot harder to please.”

Frank knows she’s probably right. She has more to be worried about. It’s a hell of a lot easier for Gerard to take advantage of him than for him to take advantage of Gerard. It’s easier to worry about someone mistreating the blind guy than it is to worry about the blind guy mistreating someone else. It has to do with the distribution and balance of power. Frank has less power to control, and Gerard has much more. Really, Frank’s mother _does_ have a lot more to worry about, but Frank is still really nervous anyway. 

He eats his breakfast mostly in quiet. He’s trying to make it last as long as he can bear it to prolong what’s going to happen today. Eventually he hears the water shut off, and Frank’s cereal is starting to get soggy, so he’s going to have to finish up soon. 

Frank is busy spinning around the soggy cereal in the bowl when he hears Gerard’s footsteps coming down the hall behind him. He doesn’t bother turning around, he wouldn’t see him anyway.

“Good morning, Ms. Iero,” Gerard says as he steps into the kitchen.

“Morning, Gerard,” she smiles back.

Gerard gives him a backward hug and kisses his cheek, while Frank notes, “You smell like me.”

“I know, I used your shampoo,” he says.

“It’s weird,” Frank says, “you smell like me, so you’re like half me right now.”

“That makes sense?” Gerard says, his voice saying the exact opposite of his words.

“Well, I’ve only got three things to go by,” Frank says, “What you sound like, what you feel like, and what you smell like. You smell like me, so now you’re like half me.”

“That would be a third,” Gerard says.

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m a third you,” Gerard repeats.

“That’s more than usual,” Frank shrugs. He smells okay, Frank supposes, but he likes the way that Gerard smells when he smells like himself better. 

Frank drops his spoon into the bowl and sighs. "I'm going to go shower now."

"Hey, are you okay?" Gerard asks a little worried. 

"Dandy."

Frank pushes his chair back and leaves the room leaving Gerard staring after him. 

"Did I do something?" Gerard asks. 

"He's just worried about meeting your parents," she shrugs and Gerard nods understandingly. 

"They won't mind," Gerard says, confidently. 

"I know they won't," she says, knowing exactly what Gerard's referring to. "Would you like some cereal?"

"Yes, please." 

She goes over to the table and takes the bowl her son discarded moments before and empties it. She doesn't see a reason to dirty up more dishes so she washes the bowl and spoon and grabs the cereal. She sits it on the table and slides the milk over to Gerard. 

"Thank you, Ms. I."

"Of course, honey," she smiles at him for a moment before it fades. "Could you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

"Continue loving him."

Gerard knows she doesn't even have to ask him that, because he's going to love Frank for the rest of his life. There are just some things you are certain of and that's one of them for Gerard. 

"I'm going to get some cleaning done before I head out. Enjoy showing my boy off."

"I definitely will,” Gerard says. He likes the idea of showing Frank off, because he knows that that is precisely what he’ll be doing. He wants to show Frank off in a museum. Frank deserves it. He’s a masterpiece that’s honestly more gorgeous than anything anyone could ever paint, or draw, or even imagine. That’s how Gerard sees him anyway. 

Gerard hums quietly to himself, looking around the kitchen impishly. It’s small, and there’s still some unpacking to be done even now, after a few months, but it’s nice. 

Gerard thinks that he’s at least on fairly good terms with Frank’s mom, and that’s what he hopes for vice versa. It’s harder for Frank, he knows that. Gerard may have had more pressure on him, but Frank’s troubles don’t really equate to what Gerard could ever think of going through. He doesn’t pity Frank, he knows that Frank would kill him if he so much as thought Gerard might pity him, but he still knows that Frank’s life is not easy. Gerard’s only hope is to make it that much easier, or at least a little more enjoyable.

Gerard finishes his cereal quickly, and, seeing as Ms. Iero’s off in the living room, he cleans the bowl himself, putting it away at almost the same time Frank comes back out, fully dressed, hair still wet and minutely dripping down into the collar of his shirt. 

“How do I look?” Frank asks sounding unenthusiastic.

“Perfect,” Gerard says, “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“Great,” Frank says, “let’s do this.”

“You’re ready to go then?” he asks.

“I guess so,” Frank shrugs. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Can I drive?”

“Um, I’m thinking not,” Gerard says, laughing.

“What, you don’t want me driving?” Frank asks with a wide grin.

“I think that might not be a great idea, that’s all,” Gerard says. 

“Fine, suit yourself,” Frank shrugs, and he allows Gerard to walk in front of him. He says a hurried goodbye to his mother before their out the door, which, honestly, makes everything seem more real.

He has to face it now, he’s meeting Gerard’s parents. When he was in the comfort of his own home, that wasn’t as much of a worry, because it had felt miles off. It wouldn’t happen for a really long time. Now though, he has to actually accept that he’s going to actually meet them. It’s harder to kid himself into thinking that’s far off, because now they’re on the move.

Frank vacantly sits down when Gerard gets the door for him. He’s not entirely there. He’s nervous, and scared, and his brain is on vacation, which is really inconvenient because he could really use it right now.

It’s too late to pretend to be sick. Frank can’t turn back now without offending Gerard and making himself feel guilty. It’s now or never, so he just has to grit his teeth and charge.

He lets Gerard buckle him up, like he always does, but not because it's routine, but because he can't move. He's scared stiff, literally, and he hopes Gerard can't tell. The way Gerard's lingering over him lets Frank know that he's definitely in tune with how he's feeling. 

"If you don't want to go we can go back inside," Gerard says. 

"Don't be ridiculous," Frank chuckles nervously. "I can't show off my boyish good looks from home can I?"

Gerard smiles sadly. 

"Look, you don't have to try and fool me. I know you're afraid."

"Really, Gee... you talk too much," Frank tries to steady his breathing. "Let's get going."

Gerard kisses Frank's cheek and backs up. He starts the car, turns on his music, and puts on his seat belt. Within seconds they're on their way. 

“What do I open with?” Frank asks, turning the volume of the music down so that he can be heard.

“What do you mean?”

“Like what’s the first thing I say? ‘Hi I’m Frank, and the reason your son is never home anymore is because he’s been sleeping in my bed.’”

“Maybe not.”

“I wasn’t being literal,” Frank frowns. “But I still don’t know what to say. I’ve never done this before.”

“I know it’s cliché, but honestly just be yourself, you should do fine. Really though, I’ve never introduced someone to my parents for real.”

“For real?”

“Well, like, I had to introduce them to my prom date, but I’d rather pretend that didn’t happen,” Gerard replies.

“Oh my god, who was your prom date? Did he have a mullet?”

“Why do you think that the only prom date I could get had a mullet?” Gerard asks.

“Well, _did_ he have a mullet?”

“It wasn’t a mullet, okay. I mean, he had some questionable style choices, but at least there was no mullet to be spoken of.”

“Where is he now?”

“Hell if I know,” Gerard shrugs. “I wish I’d known that you existed then. I could’ve ditched prom altogether.”

“You can’t just ditch out on prom. You’ve got a second chance to go, and I’m here this time,” Frank says, grinning, and Gerard is not sure how he feels about that, but if Frank’s there, than it can’t be that huge of a disaster. Besides, given the look on Frank’s face, Gerard kind of owes him that much. 

Frank presses his face to the window. It’s cold, the window feels like it’s been in an icebox forever, but it keeps him there. It keeps him on his feet in a way even though it’s not really doing much to ease his mind. It’s at least making sure to remind him that he’s here and he can’t pretend that this isn’t happening, because it is.

Honestly, Frank knows, if they raised him and Mikey, Gerard’s got good parents. Sure, sometimes bad parents can have great kids, but it doesn’t seem like that’s the case with them. Gerard’s good, good in a moral sense, as well as the fact that he’s extremely kind. Gerard’s just too sweet to have awful parents. 

That doesn’t make Frank any less nervous. What that means is that he has a lot to be to really be worth Gerard. Frank’s not entirely sure that he is good enough for him, but he’s selfish and he doesn’t care about the fact that Gerard could probably be dating some perfect billionaire, because he just wants Gerard for himself.

Frank will do his best to be the perfect boyfriend. He knows Gerard’s already made that dream impossible by already being too perfect, but he’ll try anyway. He wants to impress them, or at least good enough that they think Gerard’s doing alright. Mikey likes Frank well enough, so maybe Gerard’s parents will feel the same.

Frank crosses his fingers. He feels like the car ride is cut a lot shorter than it usually takes to get anywhere. What’s usually about ten minutes feels like less than a couple. Time is rushing past him, sensing his nerves and feeding off them. He doesn’t like it.

Before he can really take in a deep breath, Gerard’s parking the car. Frank’s brain is about to implode with the fear that’s coursing through him. 

“You’re still sure you don’t want to go back?” Gerard asks.

“This has to happen eventually,” Frank says, “it might as well be now.”

“I’ll say it again, Frank, they will love you. They know I love you, they’ve got no choice but to like you as well.”

“They could still hate me,” Frank says, “they could think I’m an ass, or needy, or they might be logical and realize that you shouldn’t be dating a blind person.”

Frank doesn’t want to get out of the car. He hears Gerard opening his door, and he sighs, because he somewhat understands why Frank’s so nervous, but that doesn’t change the fact that Gerard knows they’ll like him.

“What’s so wrong with dating a blind person?” Gerard asks. “I don’t find it all that grueling. It’s honestly not even a factor in why I like you. I like you because you’re Frank.”

Frank frowns, but he doesn’t argue. Not because he agrees, but because arguing with Gerard about this isn’t going to get him anywhere. Gerard doesn’t care, Frank honestly does believe that, but Frank doesn’t really understand why it is that he doesn’t care. He feels that he _should_ care. 

Nevertheless, Frank let’s Gerard pull open his door for him, and he clutches at the folded down walking stick in his hand, nervous as to what he should do. He remembers Gerard’s house being messy, so he knows he can’t just leave it in the car, he’s got to keep his own safety in mind, but what are his parents going to think when Gerard brings in a guy brandishing a white cane out in front of him? It’s going to be plainly obvious, and no matter what kind of people they are, their first impression of Frank will be that he’s crippled. That’s the first thing that people make of him, almost all people, that’s how they first view him. He’s blind. It’s not always true. Sometimes people’s first impression actually does get to be about him. Like with Gerard, he didn’t know that originally, but Frank can’t hide from it.

“You okay,” Gerard asks Frank as he steps out of the car, pulling his cane out in front of him. Frank never thinks about it, but he usually doesn’t have it out with Gerard, because they’re usually in Frank’s house or at the comic book store where Frank never has to stand up or move around, so he doesn’t need it. 

“Yeah, just anxious.”

“Well soon, you’ll understand that there’s nothing to be anxious about,” Gerard tells him.

"Shut up," Frank says and moves close to Gerard. Gerard wraps his arm around Frank's shoulder and pulls him in. Frank puts his arm around Gerard's waist and sighs. 

"You're rude," Gerard replies. 

"It's just that telling me I have nothing to worry about doesn't exactly stop me from worrying. So just shut up."

Gerard smiles at Frank and starts leading him to the door of his house. When they get there he takes out his keys and opens the door. They walk inside and Gerard closes the door. He takes Frank's coat and winter accessories off and hangs it up. 

"Mom? Dad?"

Mikey comes into the living room and Frank turns his head in his direction. 

"Ah... the meeting of the parents," he grins, making a face along with it.

"Don't start, Mikey. He's nervous enough."

Mikey giggles and Frank scowls at him. The last thing he needs is to deal with Mikey. 

"Awe come on! They're not evil robots out to get the blind kid."

"Fuck off, Mikey," Frank says and Mikey looks at him. 

"Okay, my bad. Jeez," Mikey replies and goes to sit on the couch. 

Just then Frank's head snaps in the direction of the hallway where he hears footsteps approaching. Suddenly he's clinging to Gerard and he doesn't notice until Gerard reacts to how tightly Frank's holding him. 

"I'm sorry," Frank says quietly and loosens his grip. He's clutching his cane so tightly he thinks he's going to snap it in half. 

"Yeah baby, what is it? Oh!" Mrs. Way stops and smiles when she sees Frank. "Hello there! I'm Donna and you must be Frank." 

She walks over to him and holds out her hand for him to shake. When he doesn't take it she notices why. She suddenly feels horrible for not realizing it immediately. 

"Hi Mrs. Way, I'm Frank," Frank answers and he smiles as sweetly as he can. It feels fake to his own face.

Mr. Way finally reaches the living room and walks over to where they're all standing. "Hello, Frank. I'm Donald." He doesn't make an attempt to shake his hand, because unlike Mrs. Way he noticed the boy was visually impaired as soon as he saw him. Nobody wears sunglasses inside of a house unless something's up with them or they're blind. 

"Hello Mr. Way. It's nice to finally meet you."

Mikey scoffs and laughs from the couch, and if Frank could, he'd leap across the room and cut Mikey's toes off right then. 

"What is so funny Mikey?" Mr. Way asks curiously. 

"Frank."

Frank raises his brows and Gerard giggles a little. Frank elbows him in his side and looks up in his direction. 

"What about Frank is funny?" Mr. Way asks next. 

"How polite he seems. Frank is the most..."

"Michael, you stop that right now. The way he acts with friends shouldn't be the way he acts with parents. He has to have some sort of manners unlike you. Sit up straight and shut your mouth. Besides... if he's impolite to you there's no wonder why."

Frank and Gerard laugh along with Mr. Way. Mikey just scowls and does as he's told. 

"Thank you, Mrs. Way."

"No need to thank me. I gave birth to the boy, but you can't raise them all right, huh?" she says. 

"Moooom!" Mikey whines and she laughs and turns her attention back to Frank. 

"So why has it taken you so long to meet us?" Mr. Way asks and Frank doesn't really have an answer to that. 

"Oh stop Donald. We've never met anyone else so he must be special."

"I've been told that Gerard's told you all about how amazing I am."

"See? That's more like the Frankie we all know."

"Do you want to keep your toes Mikey?" Frank snaps at him for calling him Frankie. 

"What's that about?" Mrs. Way asks while chuckling. 

"Frankie here doesn't let anyone but Gerard call him Frankie. I guess you have to swap spit with him to earn that right."

"Michael!" Mrs. Way and Mr. Way say. 

"I could get rid of him for you two and make it look like an accident. Just say the word," Frank says.

They laugh again and Mrs. Way reaches out on impulse and ruffles Frank's hair. "You are going to fit into this family just perfectly."

Frank smiles and Gerard kisses his forehead. "See? I told you that you had nothing to worry about."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We didn't mean for this to take so long, hopefully this chapter was kind of worth it.


	30. Floating With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back with a bang, ahaha, I’ll let myself out.

Frank has been sitting on the couch for about ten minutes and there is only one thought going on in his head. That one thought is that he’s pretty sure Disney Channel has made a show about this family. Gerard and Mikey are the stereotypical dream team for a Disney family. They pick on each other to the extremes and yet you can tell that there’s love there in the cheesiest way possible. He’s pretty sure that Mikey is the evil mastermind who is damn good at pulling pranks, and Gerard is the oblivious yet somehow incredibly smart one with the wisdom of an aging professor. Gerard’s dad keeps making dad jokes that make everyone in the room groan, he literally called Mikey ‘Hungry’ a minute ago. Gerard’s mom could probably be played by a thousand other housewives. Not in a bad way, she’s nice and very kind to Frank, but she’s not an original character. Frank kind of gets the impression that her favorite show is Grey’s Anatomy. 

The one thing he has noticed is that Gerard’s mom, quite like Frank’s mom, gets offended every time Frank makes a blind joke. And he’s full of them, he’s got so many blind jokes to try out on unsuspecting people, but she keeps gasping at every single one like Frank is spreading some scandalous rumor about a celebrity. It’s kind of fueling him to make more blind jokes. This is what it must feel like to host TMZ.

“I think love at first sight would be inaccurate,” Frank says, “I still haven’t seen him.”

Mikey likes his blind jokes a lot though. 

As soon as Mikey snorts out laughter at that, his mom is quick on the draw with a very parental sounding “Michael!” 

“He’s the one who said it!” Mikey says.

“You really should get used to that,” Gerard says, talking to his mom. Frank is kind of charmed with the way that Gerard talks around his family. He doesn’t swear as much, but he’s the same person which he finds strange. If there’s one thing Frank is well aware of it’s that everyone has different personalities around different people. Even Frank is a different person when he’s sitting in a class than he is with his mother or with his friends. He talks to waiters like such a gentleman, but as soon as they’re gone, he’ll rag on whomever sits across from him like it’s a fucking sport.

“I’m full of them” Frank says proudly. “I told half of them to Gerard on our first date. It was a blind date.”

“Alright you get a high five for that one,” Gerard says.

“A target that I'm probably gonna miss,” Frank says, letting Gerard high five him because he’s the kind of guy who still gives people high fives apparently. He’d probably have kissed Frank if they weren’t sitting on a couch in front of his parents.

“I don’t know why,” Mikey says, “but that was the gayest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Michael!” his mom says.

“It was pretty gay,” Frank nods. Gerard resists the urge to say ‘you’re a pretty gay’ but it’s not easy. He has to bite his tongue to prevent himself. Frank is pretty though.

“Why did it take so long for us to meet you then?” Gerard’s dad asks, and Frank doesn’t know what to say. He’s uncomfortable around things that breathe? He’s afraid that meeting Gerard’s parents means they’re really serious? He’s afraid that Gerard’s parents are going to think him unworthy of their son? He hates other people’s parents? He’s still not sure that Gerard isn’t a giant lizard? The list goes on and on, Frank’s just really socially awkward, especially when he’s supposed to make people like him. 

Frank is absolutely fantastic at getting people to dislike him. In fact, Frank would say that it’s his super power. There is nothing he is better at then getting people to hate him. Other than stubbing his toes, that’s the thing he’s the best at. Getting people to _like_ him, however, that is a different story altogether. It’s something he is not well practiced in and it’s something that he doesn’t overly want to improve upon because that would entail having to communicate with other humans more and it just seems like such an effort. He’s content to just have three friends and Gerard. And someday, an entire house of dogs. 

“It was my fault,” Gerard says, even though Frank knows that’s a lie. “I didn’t want you to meet him until I knew he was going to stay. I wouldn’t have brought Frank here if I didn’t think I was going to love him for the rest of my life.”

Frank blushes. Not just a dash of red on his cheek bones either, he turns full on Kool-Aid red. He turns what he presumes is Gerard’s hair color. 

“That’s gross,” Mikey says, and Gerard presumably throws something at him because he’s swearing at Gerard a moment later. 

"You're gross," Gerard says and Mikey sticks his tongue out at Gerard. "It's the reason why you're single."

Mikey gasps, standing up, and hitting Gerard in the back of his head as he walks to the other side of the room, "I'm single because no one is good enough for me. Remember that."

Gerard and Frank both laugh, causing Mikey to blow a deep breath and roll his eyes. 

"I'm going to see Brendon."

Gerard laughs harder and claps. "Yes, the one person who can deal with you. Maybe you're not single after all."

"Mooooom!" Mikey calls out from behind the couch and Gerard pushes him. 

"Stop whining," Gerard says as he hits Mikey back. 

"Cut it out, you two," their mother warns. "See what I have to deal with, Frank?"

"No, I don't actually," Frank replies with a straight face, but he wants to laugh so badly he can feel the tension build up in his stomach. Sometimes he’s overwhelmingly proud of his own jokes. Gerard and Mikey both laugh for him, giving him permission to finally laugh himself. Frank thinks that he would make one hell of a standup comedian.

"Goodness, now I'll have three of them," She swats in Frank's general direction. "You stop it with those jokes."

"To be fair, you set yourself up for that one."

“It’s in my blood,” Frank says, hearing Mikey pull on a coat and mutter something about being home later. Frank isn’t paying attention. Gerard’s just grabbed his hand and has taken to rubbing along Frank’s thumb which is rather distracting in a calm sort of way. Like he’s just reminding Frank that he’s there and that everything is fine. 

“It’s true, you couldn’t beat it out of him if you tried,” Gerard says. 

“I have three areas of expertise in my life,” Frank says, “one of them is punk albums, one of them is vegetarian tacos, and the third one is blind jokes. You take that away and I’m just a guy head banging over Mexican food.”

“See, it’s sentences like that that made me fall in love with you,” Gerard says.

“I didn’t think my son would ever be able to find anyone as _unique_ as him, but there you go,” Gerard’s dad says, and Gerard grins back at him. He feels proud, honestly. It’s not like he sees Frank as some sort of trophy to show off to everyone, but he’s still proud that Frank is by his side. He’s proud that he’s able to call Frank his boyfriend, and he would brag in everyone’s face if he could that Frank is dating him and not them. It’s not even for his egos sake, Gerard genuinely just thinks that highly of Frank. 

“He’s special,” Gerard says, giggling. Frank pinches his hand, because he’s being sappy and it’s verging on soap opera. Frank is perfectly fine with a romance that puts Nicholas Sparks to shame, but as soon as you bring in cheesy shit like that, you’ve crossed a line. Then again, Gerard’s so sweet he’d probably melt in the rain. 

"I think I'm going to take Frank up to my room to read him some comics."

"Mhmm," His father says, raising an eyebrow, and Gerard stands up, taking Frank's hand in his. 

"Behave, you two," Gerard's mother warns and Frank blushes. He can’t seem to stop doing that.

Gerard just giggles and says that they will. Luckily for Gerard, his nose doesn’t grow when he lies. He leads Frank up to his bedroom with no incidents and closes his door once they're inside.

"So..." Gerard says and clasps his hands together. "What do you think of them?"

"They're keeping their toes," Frank replies and Gerard laughs. 

"That's good to know," He sighs and takes Frank's hand in his again walks him over to stand next to his bed. "I think they love you and that makes me love you even more."

"I'm glad I'm so lovable." Frank says a little sarcastically. "I love you more too." Frank continues after a few more seconds. 

Gerard takes Frank's face in his hands and pulls him into a kiss. He's been wanting to do it for so long that he couldn't wait any longer. Frank melts into the kiss and reaches up to deepen it with his hand to the back of Gerard's head. He moans into the kiss and Gerard smiles. 

"I don't think this is what behaving is," Gerard whispers against Frank's lips. 

"Then I don't want to do it," Frank pulls Gerard back in and they start kissing and taking each other's breaths away. Frank can feel himself getting turned on and he knows Gerard is too. His kisses are getting needier and hungrier. 

Frank moans and whimpers a little, "Mmm, Gee."

“Frank,” is all Gerard says in response.

“If only your parents weren’t downstairs thinking that we’re doing exactly what it is we’re fucking doing.”

"Technically, we're not. They think we're having sex, were just making out."

"Do you want to get technical or do you want to take my clothes off and do exactly what they think we're doing... except, maybe we could call it making love." Frank says in between kisses to Gerard's lip. “Ah fuck that sounds cheesy.”

"Cheesy or not, I want to make love to you, yeah," Gerard nods and goes in for another kiss, but Frank pulls back. He looks at him and asks, "what?"

"I just... it's really going to happen this time?" Frank asks, concerned. He would be looking quite quizzically at Gerard right now if he could. He would be looking at Gerard anyway, if he could, he’s got a boyfriend, it would be damn great to know what the guy looks like. 

"Well not if you keep talking."

Frank smiles softly and chuckles. "I'll shut up." With that Gerard starts kissing Frank again. It feels like a soap opera and although Frank hates soap operas, this much he likes. He always admired one thing about soap operas which he watched, or technically, heard a lot of when he first had his ‘accident.’ They only had three channels in hospital rooms, and in the middle of the day they only ever played soap operas. The thing that he likes about them is that there’s never a dull moment in people’s lives. There’s literally nothing boring about it. Either they’re being framed for murder, discovering a long lost twin, or having sex, and that is the life if you ask Frank. 

Gerard, in an attempt to be the oh-so experienced man that he is, thinks that it will be sexy if he pulls Frank over to his bed and they just fall onto it together. Gerard is not coordinated though, so instead he trips backward and falls onto the bed by himself. Frank, being the loving, concerned, sweet boyfriend that he is, laughs his ass off.

“That was more graceful in my head,” Gerard says. 

“Oh man if I could have seen just one thing and then go back to being blind forever, it would’ve been that,” Frank says, still laughing. 

“Fuck off,” Gerard groans.

“Do you really want me to do that?” Frank asks. Gerard rolls his eyes, and Frank can almost _hear_ it. 

“Get over here,” Gerard says, and Frank is totally not going to say no to the hot guy who wants to make out with him while also in a horizontal position. And naked.

Frank climbs into his lap and sighs into the kiss. He can't believe this is finally going to happen. It feels like he's been waiting an eternity and he just wants to know what it feels like to be loved; sexually. Frank wants that connection with Gerard so badly. He's heard about it in movies, how it's so amazing you feel like... floating. 

Frank wants to be the judge of that himself and because he's deeply in love with Gerard he knows it has to be amazing; once they get past the pain of course. Frank’s not sure what’s urban legend and what’s not. He’s pretty sure he’s safe from the eternal damnation thing, but he’s not so sure on the actual reason for why he would be sentenced to that in the first place.

He grinds himself down into Gerard and moans as Gerard moves his hands under his shirt and up his back, pulling him in closer and moving up into him. He pulls back and wishes he could see what he's doing to Gerard. It really sucks sometimes that he can't and this is definitely one of those times. Frank doesn't want to make himself sad, though, especially since this is what he's wanted for so long. He's not going to ruin it with self-loathing when he hates that anyway. He’s full of too many different self-detrimental, self-loathing, and other self-hyphened things, he just wants this one thing for himself that he doesn’t ruin by being the little shit he’s always told he is.

"Love you, baby." 

Frank blushes and smiles while putting his arms on Gerard's shoulders and pulling him back into a kiss. After showing him just how much he loves him with his kiss he pulls back and rubs Gerard's cheek. 

"I love you, too," he says just in case Gerard didn't get it. 

"I know," is all Gerard says before holding Frank around his waist and lifting them, turning them over so Frank's lying on the bed under him. 

Gerard looks at Frank and removes his glasses. Frank fights not to look away or close his eyes, knowing Gerard doesn't mind his eyes at all. In fact, he knows Gerard loves them, because he tells him every chance he gets and he always pulls off his glasses every chance he gets too. 

"So beautiful," Gerard says before kissing him again, slowly and deeply. 

Gerard moves his hand to Frank's pants and unbuttons them and then pulls down the zipper slowly, making sure he doesn't catch Frank's cock in it. He pulls back and looks at Frank as he sits up and moves to remove Frank's shoes. Once he's done with those he kicks off his own. He then moves back to Frank's pants and pulls them down and off. He stands and begins messing with his own pants. 

Frank sits up a bit and looks in the direction of Gerard's belt buckle. "Can I?" He asks innocently, all of a sudden, and Gerard smiles at him.

"Sure, baby."

Frank sits up and moves a little closer to the edge of the bed and reaches out for Gerard. His hands land on his hips and he smiles to himself when he isn't that far off. He moves them to Gerard's button and finishes the job for him. He pulls his pants, and boxers off and grins up at him when he's done. Gerard returns the smile and Frank doesn't have to be able to see to know that he did. 

Gerard reaches down and pulls Frank's shirt over his head, making him smile when Frank's long hair is all over the place. He runs his fingers through it all the while Frank's smiling up at him again. Gerard finishes and leans down to kiss his forehead, then his nose, then his lips. Frank melts and hums into the kiss, and reaches for Gerard's shirt to pull it off. Once he does Gerard picks Frank up and moves them to the center of the bed. 

Frank should feel more modest right now than he does. He supposes that it’s hard to be as modest as he feels he should be when he can’t see what’s actually going on. He knows that he’s naked, and he knows Gerard is too, but it’s not as scary since he doesn’t have the opportunity to feel so self-conscious. He doesn’t know what he looks like. He doesn’t know what Gerard looks like. He wants to know what Gerard looks like, of course, but he doesn’t really care what he looks like, he just wants to _know_.

It’s been so long since Frank’s seen someone, he doesn’t know what’s attractive or not. If he ever gets to see Gerard, Gerard will be the first person he gets to look at in over ten years. Gerard will automatically be the most beautiful, the epitome of gorgeous. No one will ever be able to beat him in looks.

So Frank doesn’t know what his boyfriend looks like, but he doesn’t know what his own face or body looks like either. Without that knowledge, it’s not hard to put any self-doubt away on his own looks. It’s not that he doesn’t care, it’s just that it doesn’t matter.

Gerard kisses down Frank's body, licking and sucking on both of his nipples before moving down to his hips. He licks and sucks there, knowing Frank's hips are a weak spot for him. Frank moans and lifts up into his mouth, gripping Gerard's hair in the process. Gerard moans and finally moves down to take him into his mouth. Frank gasps and moans softly. 

It’s a new sensation, Frank’s not denying that. It feels how he would have imagined it to feel, but no one had ever told him that he would feel it everywhere. With only Gerard’s mouth on his cock, he would’ve expected it to be a fairly centralized sensation, but he feels it everywhere. He feels it in his toes, and in his shoulders, and everywhere else, all at once. And it feels fucking amazing in all of those places.

Frank moans only seconds after Gerard gets his mouth around him, completely losing control of his own voice.

Gerard doesn't know if he wants to make Frank cum now, or not. If he makes him cum Frank will be more relaxed and loose, but there's the chance of Frank not being able to cum again, and Gerard wants him to cum while making love to him. He takes him into his mouth, more, deciding to just see what happens. Frank's grip tightens in his hair and Gerard moans again, this time sending vibrations through Frank's cock. Frank moans louder and shakes. 

Gerard pulls off of Frank and swirls his tongue around his head before saying, "It's a good thing we don't have thin walls and the television is loud downstairs." 

Frank covers his face in embarrassment and moans again when Gerard takes him back into his mouth. Anything Frank was about to say has been forgotten. He can't help, but move into Gerard's mouth, it feels so good. He bites his lip to keep quiet, but to no avail, he keeps whimpering low in his throat. Gerard can tell Frank's trying his hardest to be quiet, and he loves knowing that he's doing so good, he can't even accomplish that. 

"G-Gee... I can't... I'm gonna... ah!" Frank's hand finds its way back into Gerard’s hair and he tugs harshly as he starts shaking uncontrollably and cumming. 

Gerard loves it and he doesn't pull back, not one inch, he swallows all of Frank. He loves feeling Frank lose it like that, knowing his feeling senses are heightened, it must feel so amazing to him. He looks up and Frank's panting and trying to catch his breath. Gerard moves up Frank's body and kisses him deeply, both of them moaning into the kiss, and Gerard can feel Frank's tongue chasing his own taste; that's such a turn on for Gerard. Frank wraps his legs around Gerard's waist and caresses his face with his hands. 

"Please... make love to me. I can't wait anymore," he says and he's close to begging. Frank has no doubt that he’ll be ready to go again. This is his first time, and it’s with _Gerard_. He has no shortage of thoughts that will get him going.

"Okay, baby, but we have to do this right."

"I know, so get started," Frank replies a little snarky. 

"Shouldn't I be the one rushing? You came already," Gerard says with a chuckle. 

"Yes, but it’s not enough. I want you inside of me," Frank says looking up at Gerard whose face is still in his hands. 

“Are you sure?” Gerard asks.

“I wouldn’t be asking you if I wasn’t,” Frank says, feeling somewhat scared, and he’s not sure why. It’s not because he doesn’t want this, it’s because he’s scared that he’s not going to like it. He’s so inexperienced and here’s Gerard being all sweet and kind about it, but Frank knows he’s younger than Gerard, even though it’s only be three years, he feels so tiny in comparison. 

"Okay, baby." He says, kissing Frank softly after prying himself free from Frank's hold on his waist. "I have to get the lube to do this." 

They’re interrupted only briefly by the sound of Gerard’s father yelling at them from downstairs that they’re going to leave to do some grocery shopping. They’re leaving the house. Leaving Frank to finally be all alone with Gerard.

“That’s a relief,” Gerard sighs.

Frank nods and does a hurry up motion with his hand. Gerard just smiles at him and opens his drawer to search for the bottle he’s looking for. He finally gets it after several moments of Frank expressing his impatience through sighs and groans. He climbs back onto the bed and Frank spreads his legs for him. Gerard bites his lip and can't help himself. 

He climbs between Frank's legs slowly and moves his face down. Frank thinks he's going to suck him again and goes to stop him due to sensitivity, but gasps and moans when he feels Gerard's tongue licking around his opening. 

"Gee," he gasps sharply.

"Shhh, baby... just enjoy it," Gerard whispers before going back down on Frank and slowly but surely working his tongue into him. He's so tight and Gerard loves every bit of it. He loves that he's going to be Frank's first and hopefully his only. He hears Frank's moans and whimpers and it's driving him insane. He can't wait to hear him like that when he's inside of him. 

Gerard opens the lube and Frank hears the snap of the cap. He sometimes hates that his other senses are heightened, because his focus can easily be diverted. So now he knows what's about to happen and he's tensing up a little. 

"Frankie, I need you to relax."

"How relaxed were you the first time?" Frank asks sarcastically. 

"Not very, and that's why I'm telling you this. I don't want to hurt you. It doesn’t have to hurt, unless you tell yourself it’s going to.”

"I know, Gee, but I heard the cap and now-"

"Shhh," Gerard interrupts and goes back to eating him out. 

Frank moans and grips the sheets underneath him. He focuses on Gerard's tongue and soon it's all that he can focus on. It feels so good moving around and inside of him. He's not that deep inside, because Frank's tight, but he's deep enough that Frank's crying out every second. Gerard peeks up and sees that Frank's cock is semi hard again and that makes him happy. He is a teenager though.

He puts the lube onto his fingers and Frank tenses again. Gerard pulls his tongue from him with a small grunt, "What now?"

"I heard you squeeze it and the goop..."

"Okay, Frank... seeing as though we're about to do something very mature, I'm going to need you to not call it 'goop'."

"But it sounds like goop, I was just trying to explain what I'm hearing. It's not my fault I..."

"You're right, baby," Gerard says, seeing exactly where Frank was about to go with that sentence. "So, I'm massaging the lube onto my fingers now," Gerard says as he does just that. "And now I'm going to push the first finger inside of you. Are you ready?"

"No, but go ahead."

“Only if you’re sure,” Gerard says.

“I am.”

Gerard hears the uncertainty in Frank's voice and moves over him and kisses him softly. He wants to put something else on Frank's mind instead of the impending pain. He moves his finger to Frank's opening and he tenses, Gerard shushes him and mumbles sweet words against his lips. Once he knows Frank's focused on that he pushes the first finger into him slowly. Frank gasps and groans in pain. 

"Gerard..." He grips Gerard tightly and squeezes his eyes shut. "Hurts..."

"I know, baby."  
Gerard finally finishes pushing in and stops for a moment. He looks down at Frank and runs his fingers through his hair soothingly. "Relax, Frankie," he says and he can visibly see Frank's brows and face relax after a few minutes. 

"It's okay, baby. You're doing so good."

“Talk to me, Gerard,” Frank says, “take my mind off it.”

“About what?” Gerard starts moving his finger in and out slowly. Frank gasps and grabs whatever part of Gerard he can find. He figures out that he's got Gerard's arm in a grip.

“Anything?” Frank asks. “How old were you when you…?”

Gerard sighs, “younger than I would like to say I was.”

“Younger than me?” Frank asks.

“Yes, and it was a mistake.”

“I don’t think that this is a mistake,” Frank tells him. Gerard, gets a little rush inside and smiles at him.

Gerard kisses Frank deeply, trying to make him concentrate on their lips, and also just not being able to stop kissing Frank; it's his favorite thing in the world to do. After a few minutes Frank starts moaning into the kiss and Gerard smiles. This is what he wants, he wants Frank to enjoy it, sadly he's about to be in pain again. 

"I have to add another finger now."

"No, you don't." Frank says shakily. He knows it's going to hurt more. 

"I know you think it'll hurt more," Gerard says, reading Frank's mind, "but it won't hurt as bad, because you know what to expect now."

Frank opens his eyes and looks up at Gerard, or tries to. He knows this is a thing that you’ve got to get used. You’ve got to know what to expect, know that it will be worth it. Frank knows that, but he's still scared. He also knows that he practically begged for this moment, so he can't back out now... can he? 

"Would you hate me if I wanted to stop?" Frank asks softly. 

"No, of course not. We can stop anytime you want. Do you want me to stop?" Gerard asks and kisses Frank's cheek. 

"No, but if I do want to eventually, I just want to know that you won't be upset with me."

Gerard caresses his face and kisses him again, this time on the lips. 

"I would never do that to you, Frank. Not ever. We could be married for thirty years and I’d still stop if you asked me to. I never want to hurt you, so if it's too much I promise I'll stop. Even if you don't tell me to, but I feel you need me to."

"Okay, Gee," He says softly and relaxes. "I'm ready."

Gerard nods and starts stroking him again. After a moment he starts pushing in his second finger and Frank groans. His grips tightens on Gerard again and his eyes shut. He realizes Gerard was right, though, it doesn't hurt as badly as the first time. There’s a slight burn, but it’s not so much painful as it is uncomfortable, so it's something Frank's willing to take. 

Gerard gives Frank a moment to adjust and then starts moving his fingers. After a few minutes he starts scissoring Frank as he kisses him. Suddenly Frank gasps which turns into a shuddery moan. Gerard smirks, knowing he hit Frank's spot, and pulls back to look at his face. He aims for his prostate repeatedly and hits it dead on each time, causing Frank to moan out, a little loudly and slutty if Gerard has to admit it. He loves every single bit of it, though, and he keeps aiming to make Frank sound like that. 

"G-Geeeee..." Frank stutters and moans out, "Fuck, that feels good."

"I know, baby. I'm gonna add a third finger now to make sure I open you thoroughly okay?" Gerard explains. 

"Yes, Gee. Please... want you," Frank moans and Gerard smirks. 

A moment ago Frank was asking about stopping and now he's back to begging for Gerard. He finally pushes in his third finger and Frank hisses. It hurts, but it's not completely unbearable and Frank just wants to get to the amazing part. He wants to feel Gerard doing the same thing to him with his cock. 

"Gee, I think I'm ready," Frank says softly. 

"Not yet, baby. Just a little longer," Gerard says. 

"But I want you now. Please, just take me now."

Gerard moans at Frank's words and has to force himself not to give in. "Just give it another minute, baby, and I will. I promise."

Frank groans in frustration and Gerard giggles at how cute and impatient Frank's being, but Gerard's doing this for his own good. Gerard remembers being Frank in this moment, only to find out it hurts so much more with a cock. Especially when the guy you’re doing it with doesn’t prep you enough and has never even heard the word ‘lube’ before in his entire life. 

Gerard finally pulls his fingers out of Frank and he whines a little at the loss. Gerard thinks he's creating a monster right now, because he can see that Frank is going to want this more if it's successful. Frank's, actually, already somewhat of a monster. They fool around every chance they get. This is way better than all those late nights in the backseat of Gerard’s car though.

Gerard grabs the lube again and opens this cap, he sees Frank react and thinks he's going to back out, he's a little taken aback by what he does say. 

"Can I do it, please?" Frank asks almost innocently which is slightly amusing to Gerard, because he knows Frank is anything but innocent. There’s something hot about the way that he says it though. 

"Sure, baby. Let me just move up so you don't have to sit up."

"I'm a big boy, it's okay," Frank says and sits up.

He holds his hand out and Gerard squeezes more than enough into it. Frank searches for Gerard's cock with his other hand and smiles when he bumps it. He grasps it in his hand and strokes him a little before switching to his lubed hand and massaging it into Gerard's cock. 

Gerard gasps and moans as Frank works him. He loves when Frank's hands are on him, especially his cock, he has a magical touch to Gerard and perfect hands. It’s barely anything, but it’s Frank and Frank makes him weak.

"Frankie," he moans and that causes Frank to smirk. 

"Mmm, yes Gee?" He asks in an innocent tone. 

"Feels good, I want you."

Frank chuckles seductively and licks his lips which causes Gerard to groan. "My, how the tables have turned," he smirks, waiting for Gerard to roll his eyes. Frank strokes him a little longer and then lays back down on the bed expectantly.

Gerard watches as Frank moves his own fingers to his opening and pushes inside of himself to lube himself up more. They both moan out, Frank from pleasure and Gerard from longing and want. Frank looks good fucking himself like that, and Gerard's not exaggerating, that's exactly what he's doing. Frank looks in the direction where he knows Gerard is, on his knees, and bites his lip. 

"Please, Gee... I'm really ready now."

Gerard smiles at him and his heart swells. He loves that Frank's this relaxed and comfortable with him. He loves that he's not keeping his eyes shut from embarrassment or any other feelings of him being blind. He loves that they're this close that Frank knows he can trust Gerard one hundred percent. Gerard moves over Frank and cups his cheek in his hand before kissing him softly. 

When Gerard pulls back and looks down at Frank, he's already looking up at him. "You're so beautiful. Love your eyes."

Frank blushes and bites his lip. "I wonder if you'll still love them if I ever get control back over them."

"You don't have to wonder. I will," Gerard says softly. "I'm going to start now."

Frank swallows and nods up at him. "Okay, Gee."

Gerard lines himself up with Frank's opening and starts pushing into him. Frank inhales deeply, gritting his teeth, and squeezing his eyes shut. It hurts, not so much that he’s going to scream out, but it hurts enough for him to acknowledge, but Frank wants this. He practically needs it and he won't back down. Gerard does what he has been doing since they started; he kisses him through the pain. 

Gerard lifts Frank's legs onto his hips, so he can move in easier and he breaks through that ring of muscle the moment he does. "The worst is over, baby." He mumbles against Frank's lips and Frank nods quickly. Gerard looks at him and sees his face torn into an array of different emotions. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No! No... please don't." Frank says pleadingly. "I want this. It’s just…”

Gerard understands and kisses him again. "I know, baby. You'll enjoy it soon, I promise."

"I know."

Gerard finally bottoms out inside of him and stops. They're both breathing hard for different reasons. Gerard's trying his hardest not to really start until Frank's ready and Frank's trying to get himself ready and adjusted. He runs his hands over Gerard's back and up to his neck. He plays with the hairs there for a moment and opens his eyes finally. 

"How does it feel, Gee?" he asks him, really wanting to know. 

"You feel... I've never felt someone... you're so tight." Gerard finishes after not being able to form correct sentences. "So good, honestly, just really good." He adds and he sees Frank smile. 

"Good. I want to make you feel good," Frank says softly. "I want to be the best for you."

"You already have been, without this. I promise you that," Gerard says sincerely. 

"I know," Frank says without a hint of modesty, "But I want to be the best for you with this involved."

Gerard chuckles and kisses him. 

"You can start moving now," he says.

Gerard has to ask, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Gerard. Just do it already, please... I want to actually feel this. Not just wait forever."

Gerard nods and drops his head into Frank's neck. Frank smiles and holds his head while he starts moving into him. His brows furrow and he groans out softly. He's never felt so full in his life, it's an odd feeling, totally unfamiliar and new, but he likes it. He loves the noises he suddenly hears coming from Gerard. 

Gerard can't hold them back anymore, he doesn't want to enjoy it so much when he knows Frank is still in pain, but he feels too good. He moans into his neck and pushes in and out of him at a slow pace. Frank can tell he's trying his hardest not to move fast and he's thankful for that, but he wants Gerard to know he can take it. 

"You can go a little faster, Gee. I don't mind. Doesn't hurt too much anymore." 

Gerard groans and picks up the pace a little. It feels so good and he's never felt like this before. The few people he's been with can never measure up to his moment with Frank right now. He's the total package and Gerard's so far gone with him. Frank is everything he could've ever wished for. 

Frank wraps his legs around Gerard and he starts moaning himself. It still hurts, but the pleasure is slowly rising. Hearing what he's doing to Gerard and feeling him inside of him is turning him on more than he's ever been before in his life. He starts moving his hips to meet Gerard's gentle thrusts and grips his hair in his hands. It feels so good and he wants more. 

"God, gee,” he moans, “Perfect.”

Gerard pulls back, with Frank's fingers still tangled in his hair, and looks down at him. He can see that Frank's not lying, he can _hear_ it too. Frank's gasping and moaning and his movements are picking up. In fact, Frank starts moving his hips in circles. He looks up at Gerard and bites his lip; that doesn't stop the moans from spilling from his lips, though. 

"Fuck, Gee," he moans loudly and his legs tighten around Gerard. 

Gerard moves his hands to Frank's hair and grips it just the way he knows he likes. He moves into him deeper and harder, making Frank moan more. He angles his hips and when he hears Frank cry out his name he knows he's got him right where he wants him; far gone. 

"Oh, God... oh G-Gee," he moans, his brain not controlling his vocal chords, and his hands move to Gerard's back, digging into him and dragging them down. "Feels... oh God, it feels so good.” 

Frank's body is shaking and he's squeezing around Gerard so tightly, making him grip Frank's hair tighter.

"You're so amazing," Gerard says as he watches Frank. "You're the best, Frankie."

"Ah! Oh God, yes," Frank says moving more and more into Gerard. 

"So fucking perfect."

"Ahhh," Frank cries out, getting turned on more and more by Gerard's words. 

"So beautiful, so glad you're mine."

"All yours, Gee. I'm all yours," Frank pants out, glad he's never gone this far with anyone, not that there were people lining up. He's still thankful that Gerard's the one he gets to do this with.

Gerard can feel himself getting so close to losing it and he can hear it in Frank's voice that it's the same for him. Frank moves his hands to Gerard's and takes them from his hair. They lace their fingers together and move into each other, both of them moaning and Frank whimpering here and there. Gerard locks his eyes with Frank's and for a moment he feels like Frank can see him. 

"I wish I could see how good I make you feel," Frank says suddenly and Gerard knows why he felt what he did a moment ago. "I wish I could see how beautiful you are."

"I know, baby, but you can feel it and I know it's different for you, because all you want is to see again, but feeling it... feeling it is so much better. I love feeling how I make you feel. It's like love," Gerard moans softly before continuing. "Fuck, it is love. You'd rather someone make you feel like they love you... rather than... have them tell you all the time and not feel it at all."

Frank smiles at him and nods. "You're right... and right now, I feel it and I feel... I feel so close..."

Gerard giggles and kisses Frank's nose. "Me too, baby. I want us to cum together."

Gerard's always wanted to have that connection, that moment with someone, where they lost it together, but he never has. He knows this will be his first time with Frank and he can't wait to let him know that, since Frank thinks he's not his first for most things. 

Frank moans and closes his eyes, "Me too."

"Open your eyes, Frankie." 

Frank does what's asked of him and Gerard moans. He pushes into him deeper and aims for his spot, hitting it spot on, and knowing when Frank arches into him and shudders. 

"G-Gee..." 

"Frankie..." 

"So close... gonna... "

"I know, baby. Cum with me, Frankie. Cum with..." Gerard's words stop as he whimpers and grips Frank's hands tighter, feeling Frank start cumming around him. 

The pulsing and throbbing of Frank around him pushes him over the edge seconds later and they both moan out each other's names as they cum together. Frank whimpers and tightens up on Gerard hard. 

"Gee, oh,” Frank says, repeating his name several times before his voice fades and he’s just mouthing the word.

Gerard relishes at the way Frank's face screws up in ecstasy for him and if he wasn't already cumming he knows he would be now for sure. 

"I l,ve you." Frank says and loosens up on Gerard. "I love you so much."

Gerard puts his head in Frank's neck and wraps his arms around him, Frank doing the same, holding each other so tightly and not wanting to let go. 

"I love you too, Frankie."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 97% of the credit for this chapter goes to Mcr_rockstar, so give her your love in the comments. High five to all you aces who are just as neutral about this chapter as I am.


End file.
